


Periphery

by ZielonookiKsiezniczka



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alderaan, Cameos by canon characters, Canon-Typical Violence, Character centered story, Coruscant (Star Wars), Dreams, F/M, False Identity, Family, Flashbacks, Friendship/Love, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Minor Original Character(s), Non-Canon Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Revolves around original characters, Sullust, This wasn't supposed to be so angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2020-05-14 13:56:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19274713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZielonookiKsiezniczka/pseuds/ZielonookiKsiezniczka
Summary: This is an OC-centered fic that draws mostly on the SW canon (OT, PT, TCW) while I attempt to pull in a few of my favorites from Legends. It also jumps around the timeline from chapter to chapter and includes flashbacks and dreams.If first-person POV is a no-go for you, you'll probabaly struggle to get into this. But if you love character development, it might just be up your alley.x Cheers x*****Tahmeline Rasht lived much of her life on the edge of the galaxy's biggest events, intertwined with some of the galaxy's biggest names. As is her nature, she prefers to remain out of sight, but the Force will not allow her to ignore her calling. After years on the run and with a trusted crew, she'll find her way back to what fate intended.





	1. Chapter 1

0 BBY

My right knee hits the ground first. The crate I was carrying helps to stop the collapse. I'd been perfectly fine. Until I wasn't. For the briefest of moments, everything in my body stops working. My vision fades, my breath won't come, the sounds of the world around me vanish. In this moment, I die. Only I don't.

“Captain!” one of my crew calls out, likely not for the first time, having seen me stumble.

I hear him now and so I know I’m still alive. Once again I feel the rigidity of the lightweight plasteel crate beneath my gloved hands. The soil under my knee is soft and loamy. Good for planting, I think. A thought from another life.

The crewmember, a man I'd picked up early on in my career as a freighter pilot because of his skills as a mechanic, is at my side before I can wave him off. With a strong, callused hand, engine grease forever in the cracks of his skin, he helps me back to standing.

Not that I need it. I'm fully recovered from whatever it was that washed over me.

No, that’s a lie. Physically I’m fine but desolation lingers inside, felt as one would a deep heartbreak.

“Are you sure you’re all right? Tahm?” Rabson, the mechanic, asks earnestly as I steady myself, his gaze studying my face.

Tahm. A nickname. Short for Tahmeline. Not my real name, but simply the latest in a line of pseudonyms I've utilized over the last fifteen standard years. Not that this crew I've built, my crew, knows that. To them, I am and have always been Captain Tahmeline Rasht. I'd thought that one day, and I fear that day is upon me, I'll tell them the truth. I'll tell them who I am; who I had once been.

But for now there is a more pressing matter. I ask Rabson to fetch Keeri. I need an undetectable link to the HoloNet and I keep her on the payroll for her skills as a slicer. I also trust her, as I trust all my crew. She, like Rabs and the others, has become a sort of family to me over the years.

Keeri is quick to get the link up and secure. Her long, graceful fingers glide over the keys. There's a part of me that is still surprised Keeri has remained with the crew. She is a beautiful young woman with long, curly, black hair who, I'm told, had several offers of marriage to perfectly suitable young men on her homeworld. She instead chose to hack into her planetary government’s data systems. When she wasn't attending society gatherings, of course. It took me only a short while to do what planetary authorities could not – track her down. I told her I could use a good slicer. “Anything to get off this depressing, soulless rock,” she'd said.

“The link is active, Captain.” Keeri’s gentle, child-like voice belies her sharp intellect. “What are you looking for?”

“I'm not sure, exactly. It might be too early for anything to be reported on the official channels. We might have better luck with the Imperial chatter.” This gets me quizzical looks from the three present. I sigh. “I can't shake the feeling that something's happened. Something terrible.”

Rabson, Keeri, and Fri'mal are silent as we watch the HoloNet news broadcast. I reach out and sense not only their curiosity but also their determination to not ask questions of me. There's nothing on the HoloNet but the standard regional propaganda. It's time to move closer to the core, visit a tavern or two, see what the populace is talking about.

“Contact Shem and Nathalia, see how much more time they need to get the supplies. I want to be off the ground in an hour if possible.”

“Right away, Captain,” Keeri answers.

*****

Fri'mal sets the hyperspace coordinates and eases the levers up. The stars stretch into lines and then blur into our hyperspace tunnel. We've got some time before the warning alarm will sound as we near Giju so I stretch out in my chair, arms splayed to the side as I get a couple of joints in my neck to crack.

“Might as well grab some food,” I say to my co-pilot. “I'm going to take a short nap.” With that, I prop my boots up on the console, careful not to bump anything important with my heels.

“You know my great weakness, Captain,” Fri'mal says in accented basic followed by what passes for a laugh for his species. He stands and heads for the small galley, leaving me to watch the mottled space outside the viewport alone.

I go through a quick sequence of relaxation exercises, closing my eyes and concentrating on my breathing. Drifting towards unconsciousness, not yet fully asleep, a deep sadness washes over me. A flurry of scenes unfold in my mind, distinct but flowing seamlessly together…

 

_A young girl, soft reddish-blonde hair held back in twin loose braids, her green eyes tight with worry, stands facing a door, working up the courage to press the chime. The being on the other side is content to wait. When the chime finally sounds, announcing her readiness, he gestures and the door slides silently open._

_He greets her in his awkward manner of speech, inviting her in._

_At just shy of six standard years old, she is already taller than the aged Jedi Master before her. It doesn't help that he stoops over his gimer stick as he moves about the meditation room._

_He offers her a small cup filled nearly to the brim with a sweet-smelling tea. The girl wonders if this is a test – will she be judged if some of the liquid spills on the floor? She silently reminds herself not to slurp as she brings the cup carefully to her lips._

_“Nearly a year have you been with us, Pa'lai. Yes?” Master Yoda asks, settling himself on one of the cushions used for meditation._

_“Yes, Master.”_

_“Struggled, you have, in your studies.”_

_“Am I going to be expelled,” she asks almost inaudibly, eyes turned to the floor in front of her._

_“No, child,” he replies gently. “Older than most were you, when brought here, though reached the age limit, you had not. Difficult, it must be, when far advanced are those your own age.”_

_She remains silent. Everything he has said so far has been perfectly true._

_“Miss your family, do you? A mother and father you loved?”_

_“And my brother,” the girl adds. Truth be told, it was her brother she missed the most._

_Master Yoda seems to consider this. “Mmmm, yes, a brother. Close to him you were though older, he was.”_

_She nods even though it hadn't been a question._

_“An idea, I have.” The Master's ears lift slightly and he smiles at the girl. “Assign to you a tutor, I will.” He slides off the cushion and makes his way to the comms panel, requesting the Jedi Knight who answers to fetch a student, presumably the one who will be her tutor._

_Seated once again, he invites the girl to meditate with him while they wait. Though she is curious about who Master Yoda has decided to force her onto, she falls quickly into a meditative state. That is the one discipline in which she excels. As she has spent the majority of her free time at the Jedi Temple alone, meditation is something she gets a lot of practice at._

_She feels the touch of the Jedi Master's mind against her own and she understands that their meditation time is over. Pulling herself out of a meditative state takes longer than it should and she knows it. Once she is fully back to awareness, she looks around to see a boy seated on the floor near Master Yoda's cushion, talking quietly with the Jedi Master. He looks to be near her brother's age, or no more than a year or two older._

_“Pa'lai,” Master Yoda says to the girl, gesturing toward the boy, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, “Obi-Wan. Help you with your studies, he will.”_

_....._

_“I should've known I'd find you here,” the young man says with a smile. He gestures up at the branches of the enormous tree under which the girl with deep red hair sits cross-legged._

_She smiles up at her friend, the first friend she had at the temple. The only friend she'd had for her first few years there, actually._

_“Obi-Wan!” He's older now. And taller, she notices as she stands and quickly wraps her arms around him. But then, so is she. “I didn't know you were back.”_

_“We returned a few hours ago. We just finished briefing the Council” he says, squeezing her tightly in a hug before holding her at arm's length, studying her face. “I hear you've been apprenticed!”_

_The girl nods, smiling wider as he pulls her into another hug._

_“I am so very proud of you.”_

_He releases her and she sits back down, leaving room against the trunk for him to sit next to her, as they've so often done in the seven years they've known one another. Once he sits, she leans her head against his shoulder._

_“And to think how much you've grown from the unassuming little girl I met so many years ago. Master Yoda must have sensed your potential.”_

_“Is that why he assigned you to be my friend, then?” She laughs and pokes him in the ribs with her elbow. She knows full well the reason Master Yoda had introduced her to Obi-Wan - he would remind the young girl of the older brother she'd left behind when she’d made the choice to come to the Temple._

_“When will you and your new master leave for your first mission?”_

_“Soon, I think. Though I'm not entirely sure.”_

_Through the Force, she feels the emotion he allows to slip past his shields radiating through the Force. She embraces the depth of his happiness for her. It warms her inside._

_“I truly am proud of you,” he says again. “I was already thirteen when Master Qui-Gon chose me to be his apprentice, so you have me beat for age.” It’s his turn now to nudge her._

_“Not by much. And it was wrong how they all underestimated you,” she says seriously. “You're so much stronger in your abilities than I could ever hope to be.”_

_He throws an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in closer. “You’re stronger than you know, Pa'lai.”_

_“I still have nightmares though. They're so vivid and I see them sometimes, even when I'm awake. Do you see terrible things when you meditate?”_

_Brushing off her question with the wave of his hand, he does his best to assure his young friend that she is deserving of the life she is about to have._

_....._

_The girl, blossoming into her adolescence, stands nearly as tall as the young man on the other side of the practice circle. Lightsabers in hand, returned to the ready after another round of volleys, the glow, a mix of green and blue, illuminates the area of the dojo immediately surrounding them. He strikes again, she parries. The block itself is easy, the sole purpose of this match is for him to help improve her technique. But holding the block, or even pushing it back, is not so easy. Though he is only five centimeters taller, he is much stronger. There's something else going on, too. She’s sensed it every day she’s seen him during this time they’ve both been on Coruscant. Though what “it" is, she doesn't know and will not ask._

_He releases the pressure on her blade and she steps back, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. “I need a moment,” she says, powering down her lightsaber, voice tight with frustration._

_“You're technique is getting better,” he says stiffly, without much of the warmth she remembered from a year prior. Before his most recent extended mission with his master._

_She knows what she is about to do would be frowned upon. But it's hot in the dojo and her growing frustration with his attitude is making her even more heated. With a quick glance around the room to ensure no one else is around this late at night, she grabs the hem of her long-sleeved shirt and yanks it over her head, baring the dark slate, cropped tank top – lined in the right places – she's taken to wearing underneath her normal clothing. She knows some of the female Knights and Masters wear revealing clothing, but typically the only Padawans who do are those of a species that require less coverage to keep their bodies cool._

_Tossing her outer shirt to the side of the mats, she reengages her lightsaber. “Now, where were we,” she asks, ignoring the look of disbelief that has settled on his face as his eyes quickly return to her face. Then to the ignited lightsaber in her grip._

_He chuckles and shakes his head. Igniting his own lightsaber, he moves to stand next to her, inviting her to mirror his stance. They work methodically through the range of motions of Form III, the young man verbally correcting his friend here and there as they go._

_“I heard a rumor you had considered not coming back,” she says, aiming for nonchalance but with all intention of making him uncomfortable._

_He falters. For a fraction of a second, tension bleeds through his shields._

_A new sensation flows through her as she feels his touch on her elbow, adjusting the angle of her arm. Her head snaps around to face him, searching his soft blue eyes for any hint that he felt it too._

_He quickly turns his attention to the position of her arms. “Focus, Pa'lai.”_

_Afraid to speak, she quickly nods and does exactly as he asked. She focuses. With all the determination she can muster, she focuses, pushing to the back of her mind her increasing curiosity about what happened to him while he was away, why she is all of a sudden confused about how she feels towards him, what he feels, if anything, towards her._

_“Would you like to try sparring again,” he asks when they're finished going through forms for what feels to her like the fifth time._

_Refusing to look at him, she pushes a stray hair behind her ear. “No, I…I think I'd like to go meditate for a while tonight before I go to sleep.”_

_“All right.” There's concern in his tone._

_She's nearly halfway to the exit before she remembers the shirt she removed earlier. She steels herself, turns on her heels, and walks quickly back towards the edge of the mats to grab it. Her friend has already picked it up. He holds it out to her but when she moves to take it, he doesn't let go. There's a crease between his brows that shouldn't be there for one who is only twenty as she looks up at him._

_“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” she says quietly._

_She's having difficulty reading his expression but it's almost as if he's come to a decision. He moves in close and lays a gentle kiss on her lips. The confusion she felt earlier is tenfold, her eyes wide with shock. His other hand, the one not holding her shirt, tentatively moves to cup the side of her face and she allows her eyes to flutter closed._

_Pulling away from her and loosening his grip on her shirt, he doesn't look particularly happy. Nor does he look upset or disappointed, confusing her even more._

_She pulls her shirt back over her head slowly, not wanting to look at him for fear of what she might see._

_“I'm sorry, Pa'lai. I shouldn't have done that.”_

_Letting her hair loose so she can re-tie it, she shakes her head. “No, probably not. But you never have to apologize to me. For anything. Good night, Obi-wan.” She turns away from him and walks quickly towards the exit without turning back, a furious blush mottling her cheeks._

_“Good night,” he calls after her._

_....._

_The two Jedi masters stand before them. The only two Jedi left, as far as she or anyone else knows._

_“It's good to see you alive, Master Yoda. Master Kenobi,” she says, gaze lingering on the human Jedi Master. It takes everything she has to shield the emotions thrashing around inside of her like a raging winter storm._

_Obi-Wan looks quizzically at her for a moment before realization dawns on him. The woman who stands before him, dark brown hair instead of the red it used to be, but with the same emerald eyes he's known since childhood, he thinks he must be hallucinating. A wave of surprise radiates unchecked from him through the Force. “Pa'lai?”_

_She nods then throws a quick reassuring glance at the Senator standing next to her. Master Yoda had aided her in getting to where she currently was – on the staff of an influential Galactic Senator – but Obi-Wan… Well, Master Kenobi thought –_

_“You died. Years ago,” Obi-Wan says._

_“Well, yes…and no. Pa'lai is dead, It's Rhyssa now,” she states, looking to Master Yoda._

_“Necessary, the deception was,” he says. “Another time, perhaps, for explanation. More pressing matters there are now at hand.”_

_Those pressing matters delay any conversation they might have had until events even more unthinkable occur. What in reality is only a couple of standard days feels like weeks. She avoided the medical station upon Master Kenobi's return, not wanting to be in the way and, more importantly, not wanting to face an inquisition into what she may have had foreknowledge of as the Senator from Naboo is struggling through childbirth. Moments of worry and hopelessness threaten to overwhelm her until she senses it. His presence outside the door to her quarters sends waves of cool relief through her body. But he hesitates. After a time, she taps the door control and the door slides quickly out of sight. His hand hovers near the chime._

_“Master Kenobi,” she says, peeking her head into the corridor. There's no one there but him. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”_

_“I was just going to—.” He releases the breath he’d been holding and drops his hand to his side. “I was hoping we could talk.”_

_She nods and stands aside. “Of course. Please, come in.”_

_Hesitantly, he steps inside and quickly takes stock of her quarters._

_It isn't much, her living space in this remote base on Polis Massa, but it serves its purpose. Two bunks are stacked into one wall while on the opposite side of the small room, one corner has been set up as a place for meditation. In the other is a countertop with everything she needs to brew her tea. She'd begun to prepare a second cup the moment she first felt his presence outside her door._

_“We were friends, Pa'lai?,” he asks, standing next to the cold, circular table bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. He focuses his attention back to her. “All those years ago? Good friends, I always thought.”_

_She answers affirmatively but before she can say more he cuts her off, his voice still gentle, but with a hint of…irritation? Or pleading?_

_“Please call me Obi-Wan. Your formality is…uncomfortable.”_

_“Very well, Obi-Wan.” She smiles warmly and hands him a steaming mug of robust tea. He looks as though he's happy to have something to do with his hands._

_After a sip, he turns his eyes back on her. “Your hair, it's…I almost didn't recognize you with it so dark.”_

_She smiles again, rolling her eyes genially as she self-consciously runs a hand across the long braid snaking over her right shoulder. Her dark copper locks had been colored to a chocolate brown for as long as she'd been working with the Senator._

_“But your eyes will always give you away,” he adds, drawing a laugh from her despite the staggering sense of despair._

_She takes a moment to study him – the lines around his eyes, the soot that wouldn't quite come out of his skin no matter how much he scrubbed his face, the scattered burns on the fabric of his tunic. But beyond that… “You look very much the same as when I saw you…a few months into the war, though …” You look older now, she wants to say but doesn't. Surely he knows the war has taken it's toll, in more ways than one. “I am glad to see you cut your hair,” she adds._

_“You saw me?” He takes another drink from his mug, making a show of ignoring her last comment. "That was you, on Christophsis. How did I not know it was you?"_

_“In all fairness, to you I was already dead.”_

_He doesn't react so she continues, grateful that she doesn't have to explain to him why she faked her own death. She supposes he, of anyone, should understand that it is sometimes simply necessary._

_“I was with Senator Organa – I’ve been working as one of his aides for several years. I felt your presence before I actually saw you, which allowed me to shield my own presence in the Force as much as possible.” With a shy smile she adds, “I also may have hid. Physically.”_

_The ghost of a smile passes across his lips but is gone so quickly, one who didn't know him well would have missed it entirely. He’s quiet for a time, mulling over his thoughts before returning his attention to the cup in his hands. “I mourned your death, you know.”_

_An apology seems blindingly insufficient so she does nothing more than release a soft sigh._

_“I even offered to take your lightsaber to your family, but Master Yoda told me that had already been done.”_

_She closes her eyes and stretches out in the Force to feel the connection with the crystal in the lightsaber stashed away in a secret compartment on the ship that brought her and the Senator to Polis Massa. “Master Yoda returned it to me when I joined Senator Organa's staff.”_

_“I wish you would have told me you were leaving the Order,” Obi-wan says, barely above a whisper. “I thought for a long time it was something I did.”_

_His statement catches her off-guard, though she realizes she should have known her abandonment of the Jedi Order would come up. Him blaming himself, however, is something she would never have imagined. She leans against the bunks, her own mug warm in her hands. “I couldn't tell you because you were the only one who could have convinced me to stay.”_

_The lines on his forehead deepen and his eyebrows knit together._

_She smiles a reluctant smile. “I've always cared for you, Obi-Wan,” she continues hesitantly. “As a brother, as a friend, and…”_

_“And as something more,” he finishes._

_She shakes her head, not to deny his statement, but out of reluctance to lay the truth out before him. “I understood even then that you would never feel the same way. Not towards me. I accepted that. It_ never _lessened the regard I had for our friendship.”_

_“I'm sorry, Pa'lai, for what happened between us.” He struggles to look at her as he speaks._

_She dismisses his apology with a wave. “We were children, Obi-Wan.”_

_“No, you may have been but I was old enough to know what I was doing. I won’t let you take the blame from me.”_

_“I spent the early years of my life with family that loved me, whom I loved in return. I never forgot that growing up in the Temple. I remembered those feelings, I held on to them. With you, I knew what was happening. And I let it.”_

_Something unspoken passes between them, an understanding and acceptance that words could never relate._

_She tells him how she'd come to the conclusion that her path led her away from the Jedi Order, that she’d had visions of herself assigned to the Archives in part because of what she wouldn't let go. Master Yoda had all but confirmed that the council had decided she would never take an apprentice, that she would never become a master, that she would, in fact, be posted to the Archives upon passing her final trials. For someone who had craved adventure as a child, the future she would have had with the Order would have left her dispirited._

_“And because you left, you're still…,” he struggles to get the words out past the sorrow mixed with relief. “You're still alive.”_

_She pushes away from the bunks to place her cup on the small table and then moves to take his, setting it next to hers. “I am so sorry, Obi-Wan,” she says as she places her hands on the side of his face. A swell of desolation makes it past his shields and mixes with her own as he closes his eyes and simply breathes for a moment._

_“Did you know,” he asks, looking at her once again, fully aware that her strengths are in her visions. “Did you see…this? The decimation of the Order? The fall of the Republic?”_

_“No. Possibly, to an extent. I knew something was coming. It's why Bail was ready, why we were off Coruscant and searching for a signal after seeing the smoke from the Temple. I had no idea it would be so…so all encompassing.” Tears prick her eyes and she breathes deeply to keep them from falling. “You've lost everything.” Your Master, the woman you loved, your friends, and your family, she thinks but does not say, knowing he can hear her through the Force. “If there is anything at all I can do-.“ Though she knows full well there isn't, she feels it necessary to ask. Her tears flow freely now, tracing lines down her cheeks._

_Instead of speaking he wipes the tears from her face and leans in, placing his lips on hers. She waits for him to pull away, to apologize for his actions as he'd done that first time. Instead, he deepens the kiss, moving an arm to encircle her waist and pull her to him. She rakes her fingers through his hair in response. The agony of despair and the desire to feel, at least temporarily, something other than pain, fuels their intimacy…_

 

The hyperspace warning alarm pulls me fully awake. My cheeks are wet with new tears and my own voice echoes in my mind, “May the Force be with you. Always.” The last words I said to him before he left, with an infant boy, for the desert planet in the Outer Rim he would call home. I sigh and get ready to pull back on the lever.

*****

More precautions are necessary when wandering about on a mid-rim world. At least they were when I was on the run. Most of what I do to disguise myself is habit now more than anything else. On this visit, a scarf tied tightly around the lower half of my face helps to mask my identity. Amber-colored lenses cover my emerald green eyes, my only truly distinguishing feature now that my hair has faded from it's natural red to a fair sort of blond. A ways off from white but heading that direction.

Before making my way to the market in the central part of this city's old town, I asked Keeri to scan any and all transmissions she could get her finely-bones hands on. Anything that might tell us what happened. After a fresh pang of heartache stumbling through dreams on our journey here, the emptiness remains.

The city is on edge. There's an increased Imperial presence in the form of Stormtroopers, their spotless white armor standing apart from the tattered browns, blacks, and grays preferred by the locals, at least the ones in this poorer part of the city.

I listen as I walk amongst the crowd, stretching out my hearing beyond the capacity of that of a normal human. Surely someone knows something. And then I hear it. Two men talking in hushed voices. Nervous voices. Having all these Stormtroopers around will do that to a populace but this is different.

Keeping a safe distance, I follow the pair into a non-descript tavern. Dimly lit with a haze that will likely never clear, it's like so many other places I've had occasion to visit in my years since leaving my homeworld. The men take a seat at a table along the wall and I set myself upon a stool at the bar and order a shot of whatever the greenish liquid is in the closest bottle. It takes a moment to push all the other voices to background and refocus on the two I followed here.

“Is it true,” one asks. “Do they really have the power to destroy an entire planet?” By ‘they,’ I guess he means the Empire.

I down the potent, slightly sweet alcohol in one gulp and signal the bartender for another.

“It seems so,” the other answers.

“I mean, there was talk they had something big,..but to actually use it. And on a planet like Alderaan.”

The sound of blood rushing through my body obscures any of the rest of their conversation I might have heard. My heart races and for more than a few moments, I worry that my lungs will, again, stop moving air, that I'll suffocate in a smoke-filled tavern on a world that is not nearly remote enough. Throwing some credits on the bar – I have no idea how much – I get to my feet and push my way through the dingy, ragged crowd to the street. I lose the battle to keep the contents of my stomach where they were, vomiting on the muddy ground just around the corner from the entrance. It's not so crowded out here now but I know I’d best clean myself up and be on my way. Attention from any Imperials is the last thing I need.

By the time I make it back to he ship, Keeri has a feed for me, though she's hesitant to play it back.

“It's all right,” I tell her. I already know what I'm going to see.

We all watch – my whole crew is here – as an energy beam rips into a planet – my planet – tearing it apart.

“This can't be real,” Fri'mal says, disbelief heavy in his tone. “It has to just be some propaganda trick. There is nothing so powerful to destroy a whole world.” But there's doubt in his last statement.

“What planet was that,” Shem asks quietly. Keeri reaches for the keys, presumably to begin a cross-search to identify.

There's no need. “Alderaan,” I answer. My voice is flat, emotionless, while my heart is shattered.

“How do you…,” Keeri begins.

“It was my home. I know.” This is one of those bits of personal information my crew did not know. It shows in their widened eyes, now turned on me. “There are a lot of things I've kept to myself throughout the years. I know you all know that and I've always appreciated your not asking me. But I'm afraid the time has come to lay it all out before you. After that, you can each decide if you want to remain a part of my crew or make a new path for yourselves.”

I give Keeri a name to search for, a name I gave up long ago – Pa'lai Jade. As I suspected, the search comes up empty. We’d done a thorough job all those years ago deleting all trace of my existence from various records. It is good to check every now and then, however.

I give her another – Rhyssa Veren. This time we're rewarded with a basic bio and image.

“A senator's aide,” Nathalia says, reading the information displayed. She's not sure she believes what she's seeing. I can sense it though she does well masking her expression.

“I was,” I begin.

“But Tahm, this says she’s…you're…?” Rabs is the first one to acknowledge the resemblance between the still capture and his captain. “…You're wanted for treason!”

“For conspiracy against the Empire, yes. Though it was mostly because of my affiliations in the past and, I think, partly to get me out of the way.” Before any of them can ask what I know they want to ask, I continue. “The Emperor had discovered my true identity. I don't know how he found out. Or how he knew about my daughter.” A ripple of curiosity runs through my crew.

“He came for her.” A cold ache courses through my body, a memory of the force lightning brought to bear for my lack of cooperation. I hear her, my daughter, calling for me as she runs out from where I'd told her to remain hidden no matter what should happen.

“She was quite young, just shy of four standard years, but she was…gifted. If the Republic had stood, she might have been accepted to train with the Jedi Order. Although she likely would never have been born if Palpatine and his dark apprentice hadn't destroyed the Jedi.”

“Why would the Emperor take a child from…anyone,” Rabs asks.

“During the Clone War, before Palpatine declared himself Emperor, there were instances of infants being taken from their families. The ones taken were said to be on a list of Force-sensitive children. At the time, it was not known that the Chancellor was...” I struggle to find the words to explain things that are no longer common knowledge. “It was not known that he was highly knowledgeable in using the dark side of the Force. It was thought that this dark lord, whoever he was, was taking the children to train them as his acolytes, to have an army of dedicated, Force-sensitive persons at his beck and call, to do his bidding. But until Palpatine declared himself Emperor, no one knew who this dark lord was. Most still don't. And those few that did are likely dead.”

“You really believe in all that Force nonsense, Captain,” Nathalia, always the skeptic, asks.

“I've never heard anything good about the Jedi,” Keeri adds. “They were just a bunch of fanatical tricksters, hungry for power so they turned on the Chancellor.” She looks to the others. Only Nathalia returns her gaze, shrugging her shoulders. “Right?”

“We have always believed that the Force was real on my world,” Shem tells her. “Our limited experience with the Jedi over a hundred years ago left a lasting impression. The elders have never believed the Empire's propaganda vilifying the Jedi.”

“The Jedi came to my world during the Clone War, when I was a youngling. I met only one. He was decent enough at the time, but he was very powerful,” Fri'mal chimes in, practically talking over Shem.

“I was working for Senator Organa when the war started,” I say. “I’d come to him not long after I left the Jedi Order myself.”

Their shock is written plainly on their faces. Awe mingled with hints of distrust flow through the Force around me. I had expected to sense more anger from my crew.

"That explains the Core accent," Rabs says quietly.

Shem breaks the silence. “You were a…a…”

“No,” I interrupt. “I never completed my training. I left the Order before taking my trials. But I spent the majority of my young life training at the Jedi Temple. And when I began working for the Senator, we poured over record after record erasing my existence. We knew how it might be perceived, a student of the Jedi working for a Galactic Senator. Particularly a Senator with the status and influence of Bail Organa. I took on a new identity. I even changed the color of my hair to be seen as a more typical Alderaanian so as not to draw attention.”

“I can see why,” Nathalia says under her breath.

“I found that I could better serve the Republic from outside the Order. I could use my abilities, my strengths in the Force, to help the Senator navigate difficult situations. And yes, Nathalia, I do see how that could be dangerous. My role was not to influence the Senator but to help him prepare for various eventualities. My duty was to the Republic. Senator Organa and I, along with many others, worked diligently to keep it afloat. But we failed.

“And those I'd known since I was a child at the Temple were killed by the Clone Troopers they’d fought along side throughout the war. I felt their deaths, as I felt the destruction of my homeworld. What you saw,” I direct my attention towards Rabs, “when I collapsed, I know now were the deaths of millions washing over me. Including my father and mother. My brother and his family. All of them, and all the others, their lives cut down in an instant.”

I'm fighting to keep my emotions in check; my breathing is unsteady and I'm gripping the edge of the table on which I'm perched so hard, pain shoots up my arm.

“Can we go back to the part about you having a daughter,” Keeri says.

A tenuous smile breaks on my face and I relax ever so slightly. Leave it to Keeri to change the focus.

“Yes, Captain. I'm quite intrigued at the thought of you having a family, living a normal life.” A smirk plays across Rabs's face as he raises an eyebrow.

“My life was far from normal, Rabs,” I reply. “After the war, I was spending the majority of my time split between Alderaan and Coruscant, and the rest on various worlds I travelled to on diplomatic missions with the Senator. My daughter was born during all of this. It was just me and her. Until the day the Emperor paid us a visit.”

My mind drifts back again to that awful day.

 

_“Your Excellency.” I hurry down the ramp and into the main hangar, quickly kneeling. As I bow my head, I wonder what in the stars could've brought the Emperor to our hangar so unexpectedly. I begin to rise, offering, as I do, to fetch the Senator. He would certainly wish to be informed of His Excellency's surprise visit to our humble world. I explain that we were completing initial preparations on the ship for the Senator's departure on a diplomatic mission to the Western Reaches but the Senator himself was not expected for another hour._

_“That will be unnecessary,” the disfigured man engulfed in course dark robes mewls. “It is you I am here to see.” The wrinkled jowls pull up in what I can only imagine is a smile. A wicked smile._

_I don't attempt to mask my shock. “Me? Your Excellency, I am surprised by such an honor. I’m merely a Senator's aide, no one of consequence, I assure you.” I lower my head in deference once again, pushing down the growing fear. He's discovered my true identity, I'm almost certain. But the larger fear is the memory of the vision I had the night I spent with the first man I'd loved. I hope beyond hope that Sareia holds tight to my daughter._

 

“I'd thought I had more time,” I tell them. “When he said he wanted to see the girl, I feigned ignorance, told the Emperor he must be mistaken, I had no daughter. I excused myself, saying again that I would fetch Senator Organa. When I turned to go, he called me by real name. The one I'd given up years earlier. The name of a woman who was supposed to be dead. In that instant, I knew I had to do everything possible to protect my daughter.

“But in the end, it wasn't enough. I denied her existence repeatedly. I denied my involvement with the Jedi Order. He said he knew who the girl's father was and I denied that as well, claiming he was just a pilot and that he was dead anyway. But in his twisted mind, the child of a Jedi had no place in this galaxy other than with him, serving the dark side of the Force.” Again, I feel the blue streaks of electrified Force weave their way through my body, igniting my nerve endings. The memory of the pain nearly breaks me.

I untie the scarf around my neck and pull the collar of my shirt aside to show them the faint scars crackled along my skin like a lightning strike. “He tortured me. I begged him to leave her be. But he tortured me until my daughter came running.”

 

_“Mama!” Through strained, tear-filled eyes I see her running down the ramp. She's broken free of Sareia’s grip. My worst fear is coming true._

_“Please, no, she's only a child. I've not trained her. She doesn't know anything,” I beg, trying to pull myself up from the hangar floor._

_“Seize the girl,” Palpatine says to one of the red-clad troopers, ignoring my pleas and sending another volley of Force lightning from his fingertips into my body._

_I'm close to losing consciousness but I reach out my hand and call her name._

_She cries out for me as the trooper carries her aboard the Emperor's shuttle._

 

“And when his ship was safely in atmosphere, he ordered the troops he'd left behind to kill me. But the Emperor has never and will never understand the power of a parent’s love for their child. It gave me the strength to fight back, to survive, regardless of how weak my body was. I escaped with the ship we'd been loading up for the Senator and spent the next several years running, constantly looking over my shoulder.

“To protect the senator and those we had been allying ourselves with, I claimed I'd been working for an extremist group, that I'd been radicalized during my time with the senator. Bail knew the truth but he also knew that by distancing myself, I was protecting the plans for the future. He could continue to oppose the measures that would tighten the Imperial grip on the galaxy in the Senate and begin setting up resources for what has become the Rebellion without being considered a conspirator or a rebel himself. Of course, the exposure of my past and my abilities only served to fuel the Emperor's conspiracy around the Jedi Order.”

An awkward silence permeates the room. I take a deep breath, clear my throat, and continue.

“So now you know who you've been working for the last few years. I am a fugitive from the Empire. You've seen what they’re capable of. I won't be offended if you want to leave. I'll pay you what you're owed and you can find new work here or in the next port. But I would ask you to keep my secret as best you can.”

Rabs moves to perch next to me on the table. He places a strong hand over mine, gently squeezing. “Do you know if she's still alive? Your daughter?”

I nod. I know she's out there somewhere. “I received updates every now and then from those parties in the Senate who knew about her. Most often from someone in Senator Organa's camp. There are…were…only a few who knew how to contact me.” It's unlikely now that I'll hear anything more of her with the Senate disbanded and Alderaan…gone.

“What of the girl's father,” Shem asks.

Next to me, Rabs’ breath hitches and his grip on my hand tightens. I don't expect the wave of jealousy from him. I’ve apparently underestimated his attachment to me. Nathalia and Keeri notice but, thankfully, don't comment.

“He's gone,” I say simply. Sadly. “Not long after the destruction of Alderaan.”

Keeri raises an eyebrow in question.

“I felt it, his death, his sacrifice. And I saw it, long before it ever happened.”

Leaning in to whisper in my ear, Rabs asks if that was one of my nightmares. When they get bad, Rabs climbs into my bunk and folds me into his arms until I stop crying out.

I nod again. “He'd been a good friend of mine from the time I was a child at the Jedi Temple,” I say to the group, “and when he survived the destruction of both the Jedi Order and the Republic, we found comfort in each other's arms. Though I cared for him a great deal, our paths were not the same. My duty kept me on Alderaan while his took him elsewhere. My daughter never knew her father. For her safety, she didn't even know his name. A whole lot of good that did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All allusions to another, unnamed character is purely intentional!
> 
> 2nd flashback scene is set between events of Claudia Gray's Master & Apprentice and those mentioned in TCW about how Obi-Wan and Satine met.
> 
> 3rd flashback is, well, pretty much right after that year.
> 
> Comments are encouraged!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little jump back into pre-Clone War era

28 BBY

 

“You should go say hello,” a voice behind me says, pulling me out of my silent reverie.

I’d been watching the man and the young boy from the cover of a stone archway for some time. They were looking up at the stars, the man pointing every so often at another constellation in the night sky.

My guard was down, my focus so centered on the two before me that I hadn’t sensed the approach of the woman who spoke to me. I turn, surprised to see the face of the Queen.

“Your majesty,” I say quickly, bending my knees in a deep curtsey.

“Rise, my dear, and let me have a look at you,” Breha says. She places her hands on my arms and studies my face carefully. “It’s good to see you home, Pa’lai. You've grown so tall.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply with a smile. Breha had been a child herself, though older than me, when I left for Coruscant. Like me, she was a child no longer. 

“They’ve not forgotten you.” Breha gestures to the man standing at the stone balustrade. “Your brother has been coming here since you left, looking up at the night sky, wondering which planet, around which star, you were on at the time. Now he brings his son to do the same.”

“I feel as though I failed them,” I say quietly, trying and failing to hide the longing in my voice. I pull nervously at the section of hair that, until I was settled on the senator's ship back to Alderaan, was braided to show my status as a padawan of the Jedi Order. It hadn't been cut as it would have been if I'd gone through with and passed my final trials. Therefore, it had been a simple, yet painful, matter of removing the ties that held it, leaving no lasting evidence of my time with the Jedi Order. “They’ll be disappointed to know I chose to leave all those years ago and didn't complete what I set out for.”

“They'll be proud of you, as they always have been. And they'll be happy to see you.”

Breha's certainty doesn't completely dispel my skepticism, but it gives me hope. With a look back at my Queen, my eyebrows knitted together in question, she gives me an encouraging nod. I turn back towards the balustrade where my brother is pointing out another cluster of stars and I take a deep, calming breath.

My brother has some Force sensitivity, though it is less than my own and untrained. It is, therefore, why I am not surprised when he turns towards me before I reach the place where he and his son stand. I don't know exactly what he senses as I approach but it must be familiar. I stop, afraid to take the remaining steps. “Ei'zen?”

A hint of a smile breaks wider and he steps forward. “Pa'lai?”

It’s all the invitation I need. I close the distance and he gathers me up in his arms.

“I can’t believe it's you,” he says into my windblown mess of dark red hair, a few shades darker than his own. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” He holds me at arm’s length, scrutinizing me in a familiar gesture from another time. “What business could have called the Jedi to Alderaan?”

“I’m not here on behalf of the Order,” I say, heat rushing to my cheeks as I push down the swell of shame. I meet his eyes before adding quietly, “I am no longer part of the Jedi Order.”

My brother doesn't speak right away. Even after all these years apart, I recognize the look of quiet contemplation. "You don’t have to tell me, sister. And I won’t pry. Just know you can talk to me. About anything. “

I give him a determined smile. 

“Well I suppose I ought to introduce you,” he says with a shake of his head. “Rhoan,” my brother addresses the young boy who has been waiting with patience that surprises me, “come meet your Aunt Pa'lai.”

I squat down to eye level with the boy who offers me a very polite handshake. Ei'zen rolls his eyes and chuckles before grabbing the boy under the arms and hoisting him up to perch on his shoulders.

“Let's go home and see mama,” Ei'zen says to his son who answers with an excited exclamation. My brother grunts as my nephew’s heels kick back into his chest with more force than expected. “Join us,” my brother asks, holding out his hand to me.

I take it and nod, afraid my voice will crack with emotion if I try to speak.

*****

I’ve been at my mother and father’s home now for several days and, though I’m not entirely sure what it is I want to do now that I’m no longer to become a Jedi, the only place I can imagine going is to the gardens. The gardens in the temple were always one of my favorite places and I feel the call of them now here, on Alderaan.

“I think I would like to accompany you to your project,” I say to my father on the sixth night home since I’d arrived. He is an expert in horticulture, a skill passed down from his father, his father’s father and so forth. He’s told me about his newest design being implemented in the Capital city. Aldera is nestled picturesquely near the mountains but it is warm enough in the summer for growing a number of different species of plants. With the Queen’s blessing, he is adding a modest greenhouse to his sweeping plan to expand the variety further.

He agrees but in return for my promise that I will tell him about the flowers and ferns and trees that grow in the temple gardens. It's a small price to pay.

There is a great sense of peace that comes from working in the gardens with my father and brother. The air is clean, both because of Aldera's location and the royal house’s commitment to maintaining it’s cleanliness, but also because of the plant life. The sweet aroma of the spring bloom permeates the main walkways through this particular garden.

I stop at the sight of a familiar tree, surprised to see it here, outside the confines of the Jedi Temple. This Uneti tree is quite a bit younger and therefore smaller but there's no mistaking it.

“Father had it planted there years ago, at my request,” my brother says as he comes along side me. “I did a lot of research into the Jedi when I was in school. Not because I was jealous,” he adds quickly, noticing my look of confusion. “But because I was curious. I wanted to know what sorts of things my little sister was seeing or doing. That's how I learned about the Uneti tree. Is it true that it gives the Jedi a greater connection to the force?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “The ancient one on the temple grounds always gave me a greater sense of peace. It helped to quiet my mind. I spent a lot of time meditating under its branches.” As we walk past the young tree, I trace my fingers along its trunk and let the calming  sensation roll through me. Nearing the section of the greenhouse still to be planted, the scent of freshly turned soil brings back memories long forgotten. It’s time to dig in and get dirty.

Hauling three medium-sized Anaxean ferns to their intended holes in the moist soil, I do my best to name some of the flowers in one of the temple gardens for my father who is guiding the front end of the hovercart. As we pack the soil around the roots, I recall for him what I can of the trees and vines – I’d paid more attention than most to their names but not as well as I could have. My inability to give names to them doesn’t hinder my ability to describe them, however, and my father is pleased to listen to what I have to offer.

The days pass quickly as I fall into a routine. Figuring out how I fit in with family I hadn’t seen since I was five standard years old, I learn to laugh with my brother and his wife, to play with my nephew, to cook with my mother. It’s all strange yet somehow familiar. I try not to think about those later years at the temple, the years leading to the day I decided I would leave. The physical exertion of laboring, the digging, hauling, and planting, in the gardens makes it easier.

The change of season from summer to autumn brings a trip to the southern hemisphere. My father's services are requested for a community garden in a refugee village. As a descendent of political refugees himself, and grateful to the ruling house of Alderaan, my father is more than happy to oblige. It is an honor to do for those what others had done for our ancestors.

We've been here only a few days, most of it spent drawing up plans for various layouts so the community elders can approve one of my father’s designs.

A day spent creating holographic models leaves me longing for sleep or even just a chance to rest my eyes. I stretch as I stand, gathering up the compiled data to turn over to my father in the morning. I fall asleep quickly in the cot prepared for me in the home of our hosts. For the first time since I’ve been home, nightmares intrude on my peaceful rest. I’m not entirely sure what I'm seeing in my dreams. I recognize feelings of pain, betrayal, but beyond that… I can’t make out anything specific. For now it's just a feeling; one I do my best to ignore. One dream doesn't mean a thing.

*****

The remaining  time on the project in the refugee village has gone smoothly. Only one other night is marred by nightmares and it's quickly forgotten in the midst of busy days. It isn’t until our return to Aldera that the nightmares return, interrupting my sleep cycle with increasing frequency. The Force is trying to tell me something so I turn to meditation.

In the past, through meditation I could control what I saw in my sleep. Now, the time I’d spend trying to pursue the understanding and sense of calm is used up attempting to draw more detail from what I see in my sleep, facing the negative emotions to see through them. What I see seems impossible – war, armored troops, battle droids like those I'd read about in the reports from Naboo years ago, and darkness. Overwhelming darkness.

Meditation does nothing to halt the nightmares. They're becoming ever more frequent. Dark circles have formed around my eyes which I try to conceal, and my clothes fit more loosely. At first, I told myself it was the lack of physical training, but I can no longer ignore the concerned looks on the faces of my family. And apparently, my family is no longer willing to stand by quietly.

“Have you thought about going back,” my brother asks as we stand on the small top floor balcony of our parents’ home, glasses of Alderaanian White in hand.

I flash him a confused look. To which his only response is a raised eyebrow.

“We're worried about you, Pa'lai. You've lost weight. I know you've been skipping lunch to meditate, to say nothing of how little you ate at supper. And you're not sleeping.”

“Did mama tell you that,” I ask incredulously. It might be true but that doesn't mean it's anyone's business but my own.

My brother nods.

I scoff.

“But she didn't have to,” he says defensively, a hand on my arm to keep me from turning away. “We can all see it.”

I hadn't expected a lecture from my brother, of all people. I want to be upset but I know it's because he cares. They all care. It’s an adjustment, however, having a mother and father again. And a true, flesh and blood brother.

I glance up to meet my brother's eyes, a shaded green in the quiet darkness, before turning to rest my forearms on the balcony railing. The cool iron bleeds through the fabric of my sleeves and sends a shiver through my body, raising gooseflesh on my arms. “I can't control the nightmares,” I begin quietly. “Not anymore. Not like I could when I was young. I tried to ignore them at first, then to meditate, but they’re coming so frequently now.” Tears prick my eyes. “I can't express the level of despair I feel in these dreams. Something terrible is coming, Ei'zen. I feel it with every bone in my body.”

“I can’t tell you what to do, but if someone at the Jedi temple can help you? With the night terrors? Wouldn't it be worth going back?” The depth of my brother's concern is evident without use of the Force.

I shake my head no, swallowing a sip of the wine. Of course, that's not exactly the truth. “Maybe,” I say after a sigh. “I'm not convinced I belong there, though.”

“Maybe you don't have to stay. What if you went to Bail and the Queen? I’m sure Bail would take you with him to Coruscant when he returns. You could at least speak with Yoda or one of the other masters about your dreams.”

The silence stretches out between us.

Another deep breath in and out and I nod. “Very well, brother. You win. I'll go see Bail.”

“In the morning.”

I roll my eyes at my brother's insistence. “In the morning,” I repeat.

A hand on my shoulder, Ei'zen offers me a warm smile before turning to go back inside the apartment.

Exhaling another deep breath to release some of the tension in my body and mind, I look back out on the city, the white stone bathed in the soft glow of lights from surrounding apartments. It's beautiful here; and peaceful. I’m not looking forward to leaving it behind for the artificiality of the city-planet I once called home. I swirl the remaining alcohol in my glass before tipping it back in one unsophisticated swig.

*****

“Of course, Pa'lai. As long as you don't mind another few days of waiting around here,” Bail Organa says, a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I’ve done as my brother, and through him my whole family, asked and informed Alderaan's senator of my intention to return to Coruscant. As expected, he's amenable to my tagging along.

With that point of business settled, he asks me to walk with him as his presence has been requested in another part of the palace. “Is it something specific you wish to accomplish? If you don’t mind my asking.”

My brow furrows as I turn a glance up at him. Releasing a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding, I return my attention to the path ahead of me. “I was hoping to speak with Master Yoda. Though perhaps, now that I think on it, I’m too hasty in my request to travel with you. I’m not sure anyone from the Order would meet with me given my circumstances.” Given that I turned my back on all of them.

Bail Organa chuckles softly next to me. “I have no doubt you're over-thinking in this situation.”

He doesn't say it to be unkind. On the contrary, Senator Organa is excellent at reading people. The fact that I knew him briefly as a child before I left Alderaan with the Jedi only gives him more insight into my nature.

“I can make the call to Master Yoda,” he says. “The occasion of your departure from the order was not the first time I've spoken with him. I believe he and I have a good rapport.”

“Please, tell me if I'm asking too much, Senator,” I begin, my voice steady despite the nervousness I feel at one particular thought that has entered my mind.

He signals for me to continue.

“Would it be possible to set this meeting for somewhere other than the Jedi Temple. I know visitors are allowed on site, I’m not sure, however, that I’m ready to see it again.”

“My office in the senate complex, then?”

I nod, a sense of shame creeping up inside of me at having to ask so much of him. “Thank you, sir. I truly am grateful.”

*****

“Master Yoda, welcome,” Senator Organa says, gesturing the diminutive Jedi master into his office.

I bow in greeting.

“Good to see you, it is, Pa’lai.”

“You as well, Master,” I answer. “I apologize for pulling you away from your duties at the Temple.”

“Make time we should for those that need help,” he says with a dismissive wave.

“Shall I step out,” the senator asks.

“No, sir. That won’t be necessary,” I say quickly. Turning my attention to the Jedi master, I add, “I've told Senator Organa a little of my dreams.” I’m not sure why I insist on this, but I feel his presence here is important.

The senator nods and takes a seat on the sofa in the open space between the door and his desk while Master Yoda pulls himself up onto one of the single chairs and crossing his legs.

For the moment, I decide to remain standing.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. This will be the first time I’ve let anyone  _see_ what I’ve seen in my nightmares.

“The nightmares started about two standard months after I returned to Alderaan. They were sporadic at first, and vague. More feelings than images. As time passed, they became more frequent and more focused. I’ve awoken in cold sweats more nights than I can count. And when I meditate on them during the day, I’m left chilled, saddened, feeling as though I’ve been shot through with despair.” I swallow past the lump that has formed in my throat. “I’ve come here, Master, for guidance. My brother urged me to seek out help. He was right, I cannot keep these dreams to myself any longer.”

Master Yoda regards me through half-lidded eyes for a moment. “Mmmm, come here young one.”

As I kneel in front of him, he motions for my hands. I sit back on my heels and hold both hands, palms up, out to him.

I haven’t done this - opening up my subconscious to another - in some time. My eyes close as we slow our breathing. His presence is a gentle warmth against my own as I bring forth the images that have assaulted both my sleep and my waking hours in recent months, contrasting with the cool scrape of his claw-like nails on my palms.

Though my eyes are closed, the Force provides me with sight. I feel, rather than see, the senator lean forward, elbows propped on knees as he trains his focus on Master Yoda and I. Curiosity permeates the Force surrounding him.

Turning my attention back to the open connection with Master Yoda, I fold back the layers of barriers to my subconscious. It’s a dangerous task, all the more reason to have a Jedi Master to help and to guide me through the process. When the first of the images leaks through, I shudder.

Sharp nails drag lightly across my palms as Master Yoda tenses. The red-gold dust clears slightly to reveal shapes strewn along the hard-packed dirt floor. We are outdoors, a too-harsh sun beating its way through the swirls of dust that refuse to calm. As we draw closer the shapes become bodies, familiarly attired in tans and browns. The sounds of battle droids and blasters echo in the distance while the smell of ozone assaults my nose. The air around us begins to move, dust kicked up once again, as gunships maneuver for a clear landing zone. The scene disappears though the harsh smell of lightsabers, blasters, and fried electronics lingers.

 _Do you wish me to stop, Master_ , I ask quietly through the bond.

_Continue, you may._

The haze around us clears to reveal two figures, lightsabers in hand - one blue, one red -  engaging one another in a bitter duel. Their faces are hidden, their identities unknown, but the emotions roiling around them in the Force speak of hatred, jealousy, betrayal, determination, and resignation. They are speaking to one another, but their words cannot be heard by either myself or Master Yoda. In a last act of defiance, the wielder of the blue lightsaber sacrifices himself, though for what, we don’t know.

“Knew the Sith had returned, we did,” Master Yoda says sadly.

“Is there no way to tell when these events might occur,” Senator Organa asks. On our journey to the Republic capital, I’d told him, briefly, some of what I had seen: the Sith, war, death.

“The future is fluid,” I answer, keeping my eyes closed. “One action or inaction can change the course of events. There’s no way to truly know which actions are responsible for what will come to pass.”

A sense of...pride? Yes, it’s pride that radiates from Master Yoda. “Learned much from these trials of the mind, you have, Pa’lai.”

As we return to the examination of my dreams, we are affronted with the sight of beings in chains. The squelch of boots sinking into mud as humans in otherwise immaculate uniforms oversee an enormous holding cell filled with various species - Wookies, Twi’leks, Bodach’i, Mon Calamari, Bith. Shackles around necks, wrists, and ankles with chains connecting each sentient to another. But these beings are not afforded the civility of sentient species. They are crowded in, exposed to the elements, forced to stand, sit, move, through their own filth while they wait to be herded like chattel to a place where their lives, short-lived, will be defined by back-breaking work.

A tear rolls down my cheek as I try to push through to the end of this vision.

Finally, the painful scene fades away, replaced with flashes of a galaxy at war. The mechanized army used by the Trade Federation on Naboo four standard years earlier battles against troops of unknown origin in not quite identical armor. The background changes but the combatants do not. Entire ecosystems of planets are destroyed. Populations are either driven into hiding or decimated. And before this vision fades, a single glimpse of armored troops ascending the great ceremonial staircase to the Temple.

“More to see, there is,” Master Yoda asks, voice more gravelly than usual. Sadness and concern bleed through his hands into mine.

I drop my hands into my lap and open my eyes, weary from maintaining the connection. “Some of what I’ve dreamt, I know is in the past. There are slight variations on what I’ve shown you, but basically the same sequence of events.”

Master Yoda slowly opens his eyes, ears drooping. “Wish to return to the Order, I know you do not. To be involved, telling you, the Force is.”

“How do you know, Master?”

“Difficult to tell how the future will be, but warn you the Force has. Growing, darkness has been, since the Sith returned. Visions such as this, granted to no other. Wary of the possibilities we must be.”

“What do you suggest, Master Yoda,” Senator Organa asks respectfully.

I’d nearly forgotten he was there. Looking around at my surroundings, the reality of the moment comes back to me quickly. The senator’s office. Coruscant traffic in orderly grids outside the shaded window. I stand and perch lightly on the edge of the senator’s desk.

Master Yoda regards me thoughtfully for a long moment before turning to the senator. “Room on your staff, do you have?”

Senator Organa blinks in surprise and sits back. Focusing his attention on me, he considers, a hand coming up to stroke his goatee. He nods. “An aide recently resigned to spend more time back in Aldera with his new wife. I do believe Pa’lai would fill that role quite well.”

“I’ve had only basic instruction in politics, sir,” I protest, remembering the somewhat biased course in governmental politics and policies from my days as an initiate at the Jedi Temple.

The senator is apparently sold on the idea, however.

“Nonsense,” he enthuses. “Your views and opinions will be most welcome. With your training, you may see something I miss.”

My brows furrow and my gaze goes from the senator to the Jedi master and back again. I’m met with encouraging looks from both. I can’t imagine how either one of them thinks this is a good idea.

“Continue to show you visions, the Force will, if sit by and ignore them, you do.”

I want to continue arguing. I know, however, that it won’t change either of their minds. This is the course that has been settled on. Master Yoda is right, if I don’t answer the call of the Force, I’ll be plagued by these visions.

“I should probably change my name, then,” I say, trying to imagine how others would react to Senator Organa employing former Jedi Padawan Pa’lai Jade. Some might not be bothered in the slightest, but others…. “If I’m really going to do this. There are some who might conclude the Jedi are meddling in the Galactic Senate.”

“You seem to know more about politics than you realize,” the senator says with a laugh.

By the time Master Yoda leaves to return to the Temple, we’ve settled on the name Rhyssa Veren. The name Rhyssa is quite common in the Alderaan system while the surname Veren belonged to my maternal grandmother.

*****

The next hurdle before I set out to become a senator’s aide, is what to do with my true identity. If I must be reborn as Rhyssa Veren and my true self undiscoverable, the best option is the most drastic one.

I comm my brother from one of the small guest rooms in the senatorial apartment to inform him of my new position. And to tell him that, as far as the general public was concerned, his sister will have died by the time the sun rose the next morning. It wasn’t an easy decision, I explain to him as best I can. I promise him that he and our parents will still see me, but in the guise of a distant cousin. They will all have to mourn my death if the ruse is to work.

Ei’zen promises to relay everything to our mother and father. I promise to comm them to let them know that I am all right.

When I do, the blue hue of the holoprojection hides that my long hair is no longer the red inherited from my father and shared by my brother. I apologize, though my father tells me it isn’t necessary. He and my mother, he tells me, know that I am meant for more than working in a garden. I know that I will see them again, but the thought that it will not be as their daughter grieves me. I’d been returned to my family for so short a time.

It would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm truly surprised to see over 20 hits on my little daydream. I'm still thinking about structure for the overall work, so there may be some more jumps in the timeline.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The immediate aftermath of Tahm's revelations to her crew...
> 
> ***[There is a brief allusion to sexual assault in this chapter]***

0 BBY

 

Following the admission of my identity and my past to my crew, I allow them the rest of the night to wrestle with their own thoughts on the matter. In the limited privacy of my quarters, limited in that I share them with Rabson, I take time to grieve for my homeworld and for family lost to Imperial machinations.

The tears flow freely as I remember the too few moments I had with my family. As I lay in my bunk, I feel Rabs's warm hand on my shaking shoulder. My eyes open and it takes a minute or two for them to adjust to the darkness in the room, but when they do, I see a steadiness in his gaze that brings me peace.

I slide over to make room for him in my too small bunk. He climbs in, wrapping me up in his strong arms. I feel the warmth of my shuddered breaths against the soft fabric of his undershirt. We eventually drift off to sleep.

Late in the morning, I prepare to return to the city in search of cargo for hire. Preferably something bound for the Outer Rim. I'd intended to go alone but Rabs catches me up before I exit our docking bay.

"If you think I'm going to let you go out there alone again..." he huffs, slowing his pace now that he's come alongside me. A raised brow is enough to complete his thought.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, as you no doubt heard." It's a good excuse. At least I think it is. The truth is more complicated. What I felt from him while I explained who I was,  explained the life I'd so far lived, compounded with the previous night...I wasn't expecting it.

Unfortunately Rabs sees right through it. Skepticism rolls heavily off of him.

I stop and look up at him, hands on my hips. "Very well," I say with a heavy sigh.

As we make our way into a marginally better part of the city than I had visited the day before, I inform him what sort of job I'm hoping to find though I don't elaborate on the particulars. Not yet. Not out here in the open. There are still stormtroopers everywhere.

We check the job postings and place our bid on a haul destined for Sullust. With a little time to kill, we duck into a nearby cantina and slip into a booth in a dark corner. I scan the small, slightly disreputable crowd - a reflex - while Rabs orders drinks. 

Once the server droid leaves, Rabs turns to me, brows furrowed, corners of his mouth turned down in a slight frown. "You know I'm staying on, right? I don't… I don't care about all the other stuff."

He's being intentionally vague, allowing me to interpret it how I will.

"I'm sorry, Rabs." I place a hand over his. "I didn't know. This, my...it can be overwhelming and I learned at an early age to mute what I feel from those I trust, and I have come to trust you and the others. Reading people, sensing their emotions and moods, I only use that when necessary."

"Like now? You're taking it all in now, because of where we are?"

I nod. It's a simplification, of course, but not worth explaining in depth at the moment.

"And earlier, on the ship, because you weren't sure how we'd take it?" He looks down at the table, deciding for himself what my answer to that would have been. "So you can tell what I'm thinking, then."

"No," I assert. "It's more complicated than that. Well, I could, but that's an invasion of your mind and I would never consider it."

The expression in his hazel eyes is one of wariness. 

"I swear to you," I tell him, squeezing his hand.

We sit in awkward silence as he studies my face for a long moment before nodding.

The server droid returns with our drinks and we offer one another a silent toast - a tacit acknowledgement that this is a conversation best left to the privacy afforded by our ship. This is neither the time nor the place.

"So why exactly are we dealing with Tae Myub again," he asks after a hefty swig from the ale in front of him.

I look across at him, one eyebrow cocked in admonishment. Rabs and Tae don't get along, but I have an ulterior motive for taking on the job offered by the Sullustan.

"Right. Later then."

I watch his expression shift as his thoughts turn and he attempts to settle on a topic safe for a public cantina. He decides on an inventory of spare parts along with what we should look into budgeting for based on his last inspection of the ship.

My comm beeps and Rabs finishes his current line of thought. He knows I won't answer with the first notification. "No reason to seem too eager," I'd told him when he'd asked once, early on.

Another beep and I connect.

"Captain Rasht," the man on the other end begins in Sullustese, his voice tinny through the comlink. "I hadn't expected you to be back this way so soon."

"Neither had we, Tae," Rabs throws in, leaning close to participate in the call.

"Ahhh, Jusic, I should have guessed you'd be nipping at your Captain's heels." His tone hints at jest but both Rabs and I know Tae Myub is displeased with the mechanic's presence.

I roll my eyes while the corner of Rabs' mouth lifts in a smirk. We've been through this before with him.

"Getting back to the business at hand, Tae..."

"Yes, yes, Tahm, fine. Your bid is low. Too low. It makes me think that there's a catch."

"No catch, I promise. Just a favor."

There's a barely audible grumble low in the Sullustan's throat but he doesn't explicitly protest. An invitation to continue.

"I'd like a meeting with your nephew's brother-in-law," I ask cautiously. It's a code I haven't used in years. Certainly not with another of my crew in earshot.

Another grumble makes its way through the comm static. Though he conducts a modicum of reputable business, smuggling runs deeply in Tae's culture. And while he has no love for the Empire, he does not often stick his neck out for those not in his immediate circle.

"He is conducting business on the moon's northeastern quadrant but should be on-world by the end of three standard days."

I breathe a sigh of relief - he's accepted my request.

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Tae." As I disconnect the voice comm, I send our docking bay information to the businessman-smuggler. "Your grasp of Sullustese is improving," I say, turning to Rabs.

He snorts. "Understanding, sure. Just don't ask me to speak it." Clearing his throat he continues, "at least this time he didn't ask you to run away with him." 

Lifting my drink to down the remaining liquid, I motion to Rabs that it's time to head back. He does the same and I find myself watching his throat move as he swallows the last of his ale in several large gulps. A twinge of regret plays across my emotions and I tell myself it's only because he's involved in this now and it's my fault.

*****

With the cargo onboard and the ship safely in hyperspace, I retire to my quarters. Not to sleep, but to meditate. Seated cross-legged on the deck, I close my eyes and look to the Force for guidance - I may not want to involve myself directly with the Rebel Alliance, but the question I want answered is  _should or shouldn't_ , regardless of my desires.

Unfortunately, the Force is not beholden to me and my questions. It will show me what it wants me to see. Nothing more, nothing less. And right now, it doesn't want to answer that question. It apparently doesn't want to show me much of anything. I shift awkwardly in my seated position and instead stretch out to those around me. I sense each of their presences and it brings me a measure of peace.

After a time, there's a soft knock on my door. I wave my hand and the door slides open - no sense in hiding my abilities any longer, I've told them what I was.

Keeri steps in, an eyebrow raised in incredulity. "So now you're just going to show off, huh?"

I open my eyes and offer her a smile. "Come and sit," I say, gesturing to the section of floor in front of me.

She grabs a blanket off the bottom bunk - my bunk - wraps it around her shoulders and sits, knees bent, arms wrapped around them.

We sit in silence for a while. She watches as I close my eyes again and settle into a simple breathing exercise - one meant to focus my meditation though I am no longer attempting such a task.

"You can ask me anything, Keeri. If I can't tell you the answer, I will let you know."

There's a slight rustling as she adjusts her position.

"What was it like," she asks quietly.

"Which part," I return, opening my eyes and focusing on the girl seated in front of me once again.

"I don't know. All of it?"

My brow arches in question as I stifle a laugh.

"Okay, first, how did you know Nathalia and Fri'mal would choose not to stay on? Or that Fri' would want to join the rebels?"

I hadn't known who would wish to stay and who would take me up on my offer to leave. I had sensed some detachment from Nathalia, though I don’t tell Keeri that. “Regarding Fri', the destruction of Alderaan will be a tipping point for many throughout the galaxy, I simply had a feeling that I should reach out. But again, I didn't know who it would be. It could have been Rabson for all I knew."

She snorts, returning my questioning glance. I truly must have been the only one who didn't know Rabs would stay no matter what.

"What other things can you do? I mean, because of your training. I assume you know how to fight. That's what my brother said the Jedi were for."

"We were trained in hand-to-hand combat, as well as saber technique. I'm also quite accurate with a variety of blaster models. But no, the Jedi were never meant to be warriors and generals, as they became during the Clone War. We were trained to defend ourselves and those who had not the means to defend themselves."

“Can you teach me? I know I don't have what you do but I want to know how to defend myself.”

No amount of skill or training can keep the confusion from settling across my features.

“Just some basics,” she continues when I can’t seem to find my voice. “My mother made sure I knew how to dance and how to speak and sit properly, but those things won’t stop someone who...who is willing to...to…”

Pain, fear, and shame flow from her as she struggles with a memory. I reach across to take her hands in mine. “I would be honored, Keeri.”

She looks at me with tear-filled eyes and a faint smile crosses her lips. We sit in silence again as she regains control over her emotions.

“I thought about leaving, too,” she says quietly. “My family, we were fairly high on the food chain back on Fondor. We entertained Imperial officers and scientists. No one really spoke of the Jedi, or at least not in any kind of positive way. My history tutor went only so far as to mention that they staged a coup, nearly killing the Emperor in the process. I admit, I never took much of an interest in history.

“Most of what I’d heard that wasn't said derisively about the Jedi came from my brother. He’s nearly ten standard years older than me so he remembered the Clone War, whereas I was much too young. My parents sent him off to military academy when he was seventeen, though it’s only now that I question their motives, or if he really went there like they said. He thought of the Jedi as heroes, despite what happened at the end. I would hear him fighting with our father. I don't think he ever stopped believing in those stories he used to tell me.

“I don’t know if it was fear of reprisals against them for anything drastic my brother might have said or done or they thought he was influencing me in a negative way. I’ve never had the courage to look for him. I can hack into the databases of all the Imperial academies, but I’ve never taken the next step.”

“You’re afraid the truth you’ve always clung to may not be the truth after all?”

She looks at me for a moment then nods.

I offer her a reassuring smile and a promise that I will help her in any way that I can. And that once we’re on Sullust, I can begin her instruction in self-defense. Before she stands to leave, she surprises me by leaning in to envelop me in a hug. I’m not opposed to physical contact, only that it happens so infrequently, it takes me a moment to relax into it.

*****

There’s a nudge in the Force just before the proximity alarm goes off. I know that from here on out, it will be more complicated. This life I’ve built for myself from the ashes of everything that has come before is going to change. Keeri and I have a deeper understanding of one another, while there is still so much Rabs and I need to address. Hope bleeds into my being as I make my way to the cockpit, though I don’t yet know why.

Seated in the copilot’s seat is Rabson. I place a hand on his shoulder and he turns to look up at me with that raised brow again. I nod and he pulls the ship out of hyperspace.

“Are you going to let me in on the big secret yet?”

“The favor I asked of Tae,” I begin, sitting in the pilot’s chair, “it was a code phrase we’d established with him a long time ago.”

“‘We’ as in when you were working for the senator?”

“Mmhmm.” I chance a glance at him before returning my attention to the viewport. “I’ve requested a meeting with a contact who has ties to the Rebellion.”

"Do we know anything about this contact?"

"No, but I trust Tae not to lead us into a trap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this little project that is slowly ballooning out of my control! I'm grateful for each and every one of you!
> 
> The next chapter, like this one, may take some time. I'm now in the zero hour for my road trip/cross-country move but I'm going to try and write when I pause each night. Thank you in advance for you patience!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Tahm's past continues: She's accepted the role of aide to Senator Organa and she's still getting acclimated to the job.

28 BBY

 

The short list of new senators this session, provided to me by Senator Organa, is enough to keep me busy as I travel back to Coruscant. I'd taken a quick trip back to Alderaan before the session starts to pack up my few belongings and to allow the royal house tailor to fit me with appropriate outfits for my new role as a senator's aide.

The clothes are simple, understated, and I am all the more comfortable for it. Though there is a twinge of consternation as I am reminded of the simple attire of my past life in the Jedi Temple. Truly, the only similarities outside the plainness of the structure are the color palettes on some of the garments. I was never one for the beiges, tans, and browns, tending more towards shades of green and blue. There's more gray in the outfits I've been provided as a senator's aide, but the greens and blues still make an appearance much to my delight. The fabric itself is different as well - coarser and heavier, much more suited to the cool climate of Aldera. The extra weight will take some getting used to.

One name on the list had caught my eye. I've compiled basic information on each individual, though this is for my own purposes as Senator Organa has undoubtedly done the same. Returning my attention to the impromptu dossier on Senator Padmé Amidala, representative for and former elected queen of Naboo, I settle back in my seat behind the pilot and attempt to meditate. Bail will want to know if I've been able to glean any deeper insights on the new arrivals. Again, I believe he means the senator from Naboo in particular.

*****

I'm not the least bit surprised when, after a brief but warm greeting, Senator Organa asks about my meditation on the new senators this session. He doesn't ask specifically about Amidala, but the cocked brow is enough indication for my tacit understanding.

I turn the datapad I'd brought with me to his office towards him.

"Ah, yes," he says, taking it from my outstretched hand. "The former queen of Naboo."

"I believe she could be a valuable ally. In time," I tell him. "She would likely benefit from friendly guidance in the beginning."

Bail's expression is thoughtful as he studies the biographical information on the datapad. I'd highlighted a few of her notable accomplishments during her time as her system's sovereign. But there is one action that overshadows all others. I'd had to include it in my analysis and subsequent notes, though even if I'd left it out, Bail surely would have remembered.

"Her actions in Chancellor Valorum's removal from office will not be readily forgotten by many in the Senate," he says, tone marking a hint of disapproval. Only a hint - Senator Organa is nearly as good at masking his emotions as many Jedi I'd known.

"True," I begin as Bail hands the datapad back. "At the Temple, I’d studied the situation between the Naboo and the Trade Federation. There’s no argument the latter was far out of line. And despite her actions and the election of her own senator to the position of Chancellor, the Senate remained deadlocked into not taking action. Surely you can understand why one might take necessary, if perhaps drastic measures to end the suffering of one's people."

Bail nods. He at least sympathizes with the precarious position Amidala had been in at the time. "Others may not see it that way.”

I can’t help but fidget while I organize my thoughts. She is important, I  _ know _ that. I just can’t see the why yet. Master Yoda had encouraged me to consider what the Force was trying to tell me, to not ignore it. I pace back and forth in front of Bail’s desk before stopping and turning to face him.

“Have you met her yet?”

“Briefly, in passing.”

My feet itch to move again and I fight the urge, remaining stationary though my toes tap out a rhythm inside my boots. “Something tells me you’ll have another opportunity, though I’m not sure when. It might do well to keep an eye on her. Her history suggests she has an uncanny ability to seek out trouble. Or rather, trouble has a way of finding her.”

Bail chuckles before releasing a contemplative sigh. “And what of her ties to the Chancellor?”

“A valid question,” I answer with a shrug. “One that bears more…”

Our conference is interrupted as another of Senator Organa’s aides comes to inform him that Jedi Master Yoda is here. I turn a questioning glance on the senator but he is as surprised as I am by his visitor. Bail stands and offers a slight bow to the venerable Jedi as he enters the office. I bow as well and begin to excuse myself from their company when he stops me.

“Came to see you, I did, Miss Veren,” Master Yoda says, addressing me by my new name for the first time. “Something of yours, hmmm? Returned to you, it should be.” He pulls out a box and gestures for me to take it.

My brows knit together in confusion as I take the box. Opening it carefully, I find the silver and black hilt of my lightsaber. My breath catches. I’d given it to the Council when I’d made my decision to leave. I never thought I’d see it again, much less feel the weight of it in my hands or feel the connection to the kyber crystal contained within.

I move to take the hilt from the box but stop with my hand hovering a few centimeters above it. Heat radiates from it. Balling my hand into a fist, I pull away, instead closing the box and taking it gently from Master Yoda.

“Thank you, Master,” I begin, working through the confusion plaguing my mind. “But I...I’m not a Jedi.”

“In name, you may not be. In here,” he says slowly as he taps his chest with one long, pointed nail, “the heart, the dedication of a Jedi.”

And with that, I have no more arguments to draw on. I’ll never be able to adequately express my gratitude to Master Yoda, so I bow deeply to him once again and exit the senator’s office, box clutched to my chest.

*****

“Your insights proved to be correct, Rhyssa,” Senator Organa begins, having returned from what turned out to be a quick errand. He sits behind his desk and rubs a hand across his brow. “I found Senator Amidala and a small entourage heading into the lower levels of the Senate building, the ones slated for demolition.” He raises his gaze to me, a smirk forming on his lips. “It had been posted on the schedule for today for some time.”

“Perhaps her schedule did not show the event as such.” I work to keep the concern from showing in my expression. “Did you speak with her?”

“I may have been a little stern. We can’t, after all, have her knowing we’ve taken an interest in her.”

“Of course,” I say with a smile. “Was it truly her you spoke with?”

“Why wouldn’t it have been? It certainly looked like her.”

“The Temple report--” I say, waiting for the senator’s indication he knows which report I’m speaking of. When he nods, I continue. “It cited Amidala’s preference for using a decoy in particular situations. One of her handmaidens. It’s less likely she’ll have need of one here, but old habits die hard.”

"Hmmm." Bail raises a hand to stroke his goatee. "There was another young woman attending her. Next time, I'll make certain to pay attention to  _ all  _ her attendees.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tahm keeps her promise to teach Keeri to defend herself.

0 ABY

 

I let Rabs bring us into atmosphere but once we’re given our approach vectors into Pinyumb, I take over piloting the ship. We soar past volcanic peaks and over toxic but beautiful lakes as we head towards the entrance to the system of caverns in which the cities themselves are built.

“It never fails to impress me,” Rabs says, mostly to himself. I can’t help but smile.

Tae’s business partner Lemmy, who also happens to be his wife, is ready and waiting for us when we set down on our assigned landing pad. She greets me cordially, refusing my offered handshake and pulling me down into a hug. As her crew unloads the cargo, she tells me the latest news of her grandchildren.

I’m forced to politely decline an invitation for myself and my crew to join her for dinner at her home. She shakes her head knowingly and pulls me off to the side, out of earshot of the fueling crew, before handing me a data disk. It has the coordinates and time for the meeting I requested. I offer her my gratitude, and a decent amount of credits, for both her help and her discretion.

Another hug goodbye and I’m back on the ship, sitting at the computer terminal. The location is not far and it looks as though we have nearly two days before the meeting.

*****

Some of my crew have chosen to lodge in Pinyumb while we await the day of my meeting. Both Keeri and Rabs decided to stay with me and the ship, offering me the perfect opportunity to begin working with Keeri on basic self-defense. I’ve cleared out as much of the cargo hold as possible and laid out matting I found in the market for a modest price.

I struggled with how I wanted to begin, eventually settling on teaching her how to throw a punch first before moving on to true self-defense moves.

Keeri stands in front of me, arms up in a defensive posture, hands curled into fists. I move around to her left side while she holds the position.

“When you make contact, you want to do so with these two,” I say, running a finger across the knuckles of her index and middle fingers. “Meaning, you’ll need to tilt your hand down slightly at the wrist when you strike, giving you a nice, straight line between your forearm and your knuckles.”

She nods, rolling her shoulders and making adjustments to the positions of her arms.

I walk her through the motions of a simple jab and cross, moving each of her arms slowly and steadily so she can feel each movement of the muscles in her arms.

“If you’re facing off against a human, you don’t want to aim for the face,” I add. “The skeletal system of most beings is quite rigid. You risk doing damage to yourself by trying for areas where the bone structure is prominent. It’s also much easier for an opponent to dodge a strike to the head.”

“So where should I be trying to hit someone?”

“You want to see if your opponent has left a part of themselves undefended.” I continue by showing her a variety of vulnerable parts on the human body. With the caveat that not all humanoids, let alone all species, are the same. Locations of vital organs may vary from species to species.

The instruction continues as I have Keeri work through the motions of the two-part punch at a speed she feels comfortable with. As she becomes used to the movement, I ask her to quicken the pace, eventually offering my open palms as targets. We practice for some time. Sweat breaks out across her brow despite the cold temperature in the cargo hold.

Our attention is drawn by Rabson’s entrance. He’d gone out for the morning and had apparently picked up lunch for the three of us. He’s not exactly quiet upon his return, heavy steps echoing on the plating of the ramp to the hold. When he sees us, he offers an apologetic smile, holding up the bags of take-out from a food stand in the market. I allow Keeri a break from training and we follow Rabs to the lounge.

Now that we have a third person, the early afternoon is spent on techniques one can use on an opponent before they get close enough for an effective jab to the gut. Rabs is, unfortunately, made to be the would-be attacker as I demonstrate, at well below full power, a number of moves including palm strikes to the nose, eye gouging, attacks to the knees, and more.

Keeri accidentally hits too hard with a strike to the side of Rabs’s neck and I’m forced to dig into the med kit, our lessons done for the day. My trainee paces in the lounge as I apply a bacta patch the quickly bruising neck of her unwitting opponent.

“I’m so sorry, Rabs,” Keeri says, not for the first time, as she stops and faces us before picking up her pacing once again.

His chuckle is broken off by a hiss when push against the patch to ensure it’s adequately sealed against his tender skin. “It’s okay, really. Not like I haven’t had worse.” 

My eyes shift to take in his expression. I’m trying to imagine what sorts of situations he’d have been in to take a hit to the throat or worse. I never saw him as the bar-fight type, but perhaps I was wrong. Was it possible he was simply referring to the injury itself and not the manner in which it was received? In that case, I could believe serious injury was a hazard he’d faced before.

He returns my gaze, hazel eyes boring not so softly into mine. I shake my head and look away, the intensity too much to bear.

Rabs clears his throat. “I promise, Keeri, I’m good,” he says, though I can feel his eyes remain on me.

*****

Rabs and I are alone in the lounge as Keeri, exhausted from today’s exercises, has retired to her quarters. A half-played game of dejarik flickers in and out on the table in front of us. I reach across the table to turn it off as neither of us has made a move in some time. My mind drifts again to the possibility of altering the sleeping arrangements now that Nathalia is gone. Keeri moving in with me would give Rabs a space of his own, but…

“She’s a quick learner,” Rabs says, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Mmhmm. And stronger than she appears,” I add with a smile, reaching for the patch still working its healing powers on the right side of his throat. My good sense seems to come back before I bridge the distance and my arm hovers in the air between us for a moment. I pull my hand back, moving it to rub nervously at my own neck. “I’ll tell you what I told her. If you have a question, ask. I’ll answer it if I’m able.”

The right corner of his mouth lifts up as he looks down at the checkered surface of the table. He takes a few breaths in and out, then scrubs a hand over his face.

“Can you tell me about...about him?”

My brow furrows. I hadn’t expected Rabs to ask that. It’s not something I was prepared to talk about. It's been so long since I last spoke of him.

“You said I could ask you anything,” he says, masking annoyance with teasing, in response to my hesitation.

“I know. It’s only...Keeri asked about my fighting capabilities. I suppose I expected more questions about my abilities.”

He smirks and scoots over in the booth until he’s sitting next to me. “I’m not that much younger than you, Tahm.”

I snort.

“Younger, yes,” he responds with a nudge to my shoulder, waiting until I lift my eyes to his before continuing. “But not so young as the others. I was old enough to have fought in the Clone War, had the Republic not relied so heavily on the clones. I know what the Jedi were capable of. I knew all the stories, the feats of the famous Jedi Generals. They were all over the Holonet. Now, whether or not I believed them at the time?” He shrugs.

“It feels like it’s been so long. It has, really, when you think about it. An entire generation has grown up with no memory of the Republic.” I turn my head to look at Rabs. “Or the Jedi,” I add as he takes my hand in his.

Rabs traces light circles across my knuckles with his thumb and I feel something more than friendly compassion from him. The combination of the two sends a long forgotten rush of heat to my abdomen. Neither of us has ever spoken aloud of what we may or may not feel for one another.

"What you want from me, I...I can't give you." My voice is barely audible - I feel as though something inside me will break if I say these words too loudly. "It's not in my nature," I say because I cannot find the right words to describe it.

"Like hell it isn't, Tahm." He releases my hand and rubs his temples. "You can't tell me you didn't love your daughter. Or her...," he begins to say, but changes his mind about going down that road. "Or your family on Alderaan. And what you're doing for Keeri? That's not something someone does unless they..."

"You're right," I interrupt. "But I've lost so many pieces of my heart through the years, I don't think I have anything left to give. Not in the way you want. I don't want to lose anyone else."

He shakes his head and reaches for me, pushing a strand of hair back behind my ear. "I'll take whatever you're willing to give. And I won't ask for more. Just know you won't lose me." Gripping my hand once more, he tells me he would still like to know about the Jedi.

“I can’t give you his name. But I can tell you he was a great man and a great Jedi. One who’d suffered and overcome. One of the vaunted Jedi Generals on the front lines of the war. Long before the war, he’d been my friend at a time in my life when I needed one the most. I wouldn’t have made it nearly as far in my training if it hadn’t been for him.”

Rabs asks how I met him in the first place. I tell him the story of a young girl, worried she is going to be expelled because she can’t keep up with her creche mates, most of whom are younger. I tell him how the wizened old Jedi Master Yoda - a name Rabs recognizes from the days of the Republic - introduced the young girl to a boy not so different from her own older brother, a boy who would help her with her studies.

Yet in all this, I never tell him the boy’s name, a name Rabs surely would have heard. I never tell him that my friend went on to become one of the most recognizable Jedi in the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 for 1 today, but I guess as it's been f-o-r-e-v-e-r since I posted chapter 3...
> 
> I'm checking in at my new job location tomorrow so I wanted to get this up before I get busy learning my new job and trying to find a house. This chapter and the previous one are short, but I've got some stuff already written that I'm excited about that will come later


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deep conversation between Rhyssa and Padmé -or- how I headcanon why NOBODY in the galaxy seems to know that Padmé is pregnant with twins.

19 BBY

 

“Are you all right, Senator?” I hurry to her side as she looks on the verge of collapsing. I’m grateful Senator Organa felt this communication could not wait until his colleague was feeling better. Our growing wariness with the privacy of the comms systems, particularly in the senate complex, have made personal visits a common occurrence. This morning, however, Senator Organa couldn't get away so the task of relaying information to Senator Amidala has fallen to me.

“Yes, Miss Veren, I'm just…I had a bit of a dizzy spell. I'm all right now,” she says as I lay one hand on her back. She takes the offer to use my other arm as support as she sits back down on the sofa in her apartment.

It's through that touch that I feel it. I understand why she's been feeling rather weak of late.

“Please, Senator, call me Rhyssa,” I say, my voice tinged with concern. “Are you certain you're okay?”

“Yes. Or I will be. I suppose I just need rest. The constant arguments in the Senate take a lot out of me.”

“Of course, ma'am.” Sitting in a soft chair next to the sofa, I pull a few datapads from where I'd stashed them in between the layers of my overdress. “These are from Bail,” I say as I pass them to her.

“Thank you, Rhyssa.” She puts emphasis on my name, complying with my request to address me informally. “And, if I'm going to call you by your given name, I expect you to do the same.”

I nod, smiling genuinely before my thoughts drift back to the sensation I’d felt earlier. I return my eyes to the woman in front of me. “You can trust me, Padmé, to keep your confidence, even from Bail if necessary.”

She regards me cautiously, her gaze cooler than it had been moments ago. “I'm not sure I know what you're talking about.” Her expression has gone neutral, a perfect Sabbac face.

I don’t want to come right out and tell her that I know. That wouldn't be very politic. I am not a politician, however, and to play at a politician's game would certainly invite failure on my part. But I would prefer her to want to tell me herself. 

“My brother and his wife recently had their third child,” I say conversationally. “The early pregnancy was difficult on her, she was always exhausted, she found she couldn't stomach many of the foods she'd previously enjoyed, and she was prone to frequent dizziness.”

Senator Amidala raises her chin and eyes me wordlessly for an uncomfortable moment. “How did you know,” she asks finally, never moving her eyes from my face. It seems as though she's decided to trust me. At least a little. Either that or this is now my inquisition.

“I recognized the symptoms,” I answer vaguely.

“There's more to it than that.”

Again, I nod. I took a risk in broaching the subject, knowing full well she wasn't a fool. “As I said before, I’ll keep your confidence, no matter what. But in return, I'd ask that you keep mine.” I roll my eyes and lighten my tone. “I make it sound as if I'm trying to blackmail you.”

She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest, her expression daring me to explain what it is exactly I'm getting at.

“I'm really not.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, hands clasped in front of me. “You asked me how I knew. I can't tell you that without revealing what only three others outside of my family know. Two of whom are Bail Organa and his wife, the Queen of Alderaan. What I'm going to tell you cannot leave this room.”

The corner of Padmé’s mouth turns up in a smirk. “Well now you’ve piqued my interest. You have my word.”

Sitting back in the chair, I take a deep breath. “As you've likely already surmised, I was trained at the Jedi Temple.”

A quick smile is all the confirmation I need that she had, in fact, come to that conclusion. She is once again the thoughtful Senator as she says, “I wasn't aware the Jedi Order placed personnel on senatorial staff duty. Wouldn’t that be seen as a conflict of interest?”

“Of course. And though I trained to become one, I am not a Jedi. I left as a Padawan and now, as a citizen of Alderaan, I answer to the Queen, not the Jedi Council.”

“If you don't mind my asking, why did you leave the Jedi Order?”

I don't mind, not anymore. “The short answer is I left because my views on love and commitment were different than theirs.”

“And what about the long answer?”

I laugh, the earlier tension in the room has dissipated completely. Before she and I launch into further discussion, there is something I need to know. “May I,” I ask, gesturing to her midsection. She's too early on to be showing but I’m curious about how much I can sense of the life inside her even now.

She nods. “Is it something all Jedi can sense?” Her voice is strained with concern.

I lay the palm of my hand against her belly and gasp. Two little life forces radiate through the physical contact. “Not necessarily. I suppose you could say I’ve had practice.”

“Your sister-in-law?”

“Mmhmm.” I’m still marveling at the strength of what I feel inside her. I close my eyes and turn inward. Both of the burgeoning lives have a strong connection to the Force. It's not difficult to guess who their father is – I see what others tend to overlook or ignore, and, of course, there were rumors. Concern quickly floods through me, a warning from the Force that implies protection. I consciously smooth my features lest the mother should read worry on my face.

Protection. I can do protection.

All it takes is a suggestion to one. _You must protect your sibling, no one can know there are two._ I remain still, connected to the surrounding Force as one light dims, disappearing entirely. A child developing in his mother's womb has no words but needs none to express his understanding. He will hide the other until it is time to be born.

Yes, I certainly know whose child you are, I think with a smile before opening my eyes.

Padmé looks at me with wonder, and a hint of trepidation.

“Your child is well,” I assure her.

The relief that flows from her is palpable.

“I don't want to take up the rest of your morning, and I’m sure Senator Organa is wondering why a simple errand is taking so long.” I begin to stand but she stops me with a hand on my arm.

“I'd still like to hear the long version, Rhyssa. Bail will surely forgive your prolonged absence and all my appointments were cancelled due to my…illness…this morning.”

How can I say no to this young woman? Though we have led very different lives, I’d felt a true kinship with her from very early on in her friendship with Senator Organa. That feeling is only stronger now. Following our separate paths, she and I had ended up in the same place.

“Very well,” I tell her, though with the disclaimer that I will need to start from the beginning.

“When my older brother was still in infancy, a member of the Jedi Order came to visit my mother and father. He tested my brother and then offered to bring him here, to Coruscant, where my brother would be trained in the ways of the Jedi. My mother and father insisted that they would not make such a life-altering decision for their son. The Jedi accepted this and promised that he or another would return when the boy was nearing the age limit for admittance. The appointed time came and the Jedi returned. This time, he made the offer directly to my brother.

“My brother is, and has always been, a gentle soul. He was whole-heartedly awaiting the birth of his baby sister and chose not to leave his home and his family. My brother cherishes family above all else. The Jedi warned our mother and father of the dangers a Force-sensitive child may face in places outside the Core. They vowed to do whatever was in their power to protect their son.

“I was born soon after. Regardless of the situation with my brother, when I was no more than an infant, the Jedi sent another representative. And like my brother, I was tested. My mother and father again insisted that the Jedi would have to come back when I was old enough to decide for myself.

“That is where the similarities ended, I’m afraid. Where my brother was gentle and shy, I was rash and impulsive. Where he craved family, I craved adventure. I was loud and assertive and instinctively empathic. When I was four standard years and my brother came home from school hiding his pain and sadness from our parents, I felt it all. I didn’t know he was trying to hide it from me as well. He just…couldn't. It was quite a sight, I’m told, seeing a young girl confront a boy twice her age and twice her size, taking him down with a swift kick to the shin followed by an elbow to the groin.”

Padmé’s eyes are wide with shock and amusement before she bursts into laughter.

“It was not one of my prouder moments,” I say as I join her.

A deep breath in and out and I continue. “Before I reached five standard years, the Jedi returned. When asked if I would like to train to become a Jedi, I hesitated only for a moment. For the little girl who’s father would take her to the palace gardens at night to look at the stars, there was only one possible answer. This was the adventure I’d always wanted.

“I had only that night to say goodbye to my family. I loved them, though I wouldn’t realize just how much until after I'd already left. My first year at the Jedi Temple was….” I pause, looking for just the right word.

“Rough?” Padmé offers.

“To put it mildly,” I answer with a wry smile. “I struggled with the loss of my family, my brother particularly. Though it was often me standing up for him physically, he'd been a great support to me in my emotional development. I was lonely at the Temple. I felt like I would never learn enough to catch up to those my own age. So much so that I was falling behind those a year or two younger than me.

“But the Jedi truly care for their young. For that reason, I was assigned a tutor, or as I liked to joke with him in the following years, I was assigned a friend. It was no coincidence that he was near my brother's age. He was everything I needed at the time. My skills and my control improved quickly. He had a way of helping me to understand. Slowly, the girl I'd been on Alderaan returned. I caught up with those my own age and even began to surpass them.

“When I no longer needed him as a tutor, he remained my friend. He would find me in the gardens. I believe I mentioned once that my father has been working in gardens all his life, like his father and grandfather?"

Padmé nods. She and Bail had been organizing the conference on the refugee crisis that was to be held on Alderaan and I'd been asked to offer my family's story.

"He'd ask to see what I had learned that day, offering tidbits of information, tips and tricks to strengthen those skills. Then he would show me what he was learning. We would even spar occasionally, either with training sabers or hand-to-hand, though I wound up bruised and aching because my fighting skills would never rival his.

“I was sitting at the base of my favorite tree on the Temple grounds the day he was searching for me to tell me he'd been chosen as an apprentice. We saw less of each other after that, but I couldn't be sad about it. I was so happy for him. He was off-world on missions with his Master more often than not. But when he returned, he always sought me out. I’d listen as he told me of his adventures on strange planets and he’d watch as I demonstrated my lately acquired skills.

“Finally the time came for me to be apprenticed as well. After years of training, I would get to have my own adventures. My friend and I now rarely saw one another, but when we did, it was as if no time at all had passed. At least for awhile.

“We were sparring one night at the Temple. I'd passed from childhood to adolescence--nearing adulthood--and something had changed, in me definitely. In him, I wasn't sure. It'd been a year since we'd both been on Coruscant at the same time. I was encroaching on his height and had finally begun filling out in certain areas…”

The tips of my ears flush with heat as Padmé laughs. The gentle mirth of it draws a smile from me. We are two women talking about a boy. The war and the Senate and the suffocating darkness pushed out of mind for a time.

“When he put a hand on my arm to correct my stance,” I begin.

“A simple touch can speak volumes,” she finishes with a sigh.

“He kissed me that night, the first time I'd ever been kissed.”

“I didn't think Jedi were allowed those sorts of relationships.”

“It's not nearly as straightforward as it seems. But Jedi or not, human teenagers can be…overwhelmed by the unfamiliar flood of hormones.” Even though he was twenty by then, I think with a smirk.

“I see. How was it? The kiss,” she asks, pulling her legs up under her on the sofa.

“Awkward,” I answer with a laugh. “But there I was, a girl who'd spent the first years of her life knowing what it was to feel loved, knowing in my heart that I loved my mother and father, that I loved my brother. And though the first year was difficult, after that year, the love I had for them never interfered with my training. I had left them behind, let them go though I knew I would always love them. So why couldn't I have those feelings for someone else? I already knew I loved him as a friend. He'd been in my life for almost a decade at that point.”

“Please tell me he kissed you again.”

I nod and Padmé sends a silent “thank you” to the air above us which makes me laugh more. “If only holodramas were this entertaining,” she adds.

“You have to understand, we were both still Padawans, we only saw one another when we were both at the Temple. And even then, it wasn't like we could just run off to be alone. We still had to train. Through it all, I knew he could never feel the same for me as I did for him. Life at the Jedi Temple was all he’d ever known.

“Eventually, we were found out. Attachment itself is forbidden for a Jedi, the idea that one is unwilling to let go, I knew that as well as he did. He was completely honest when his behavior was questioned. He hadn't realized I'd developed feelings beyond that of friendship for him. It would be easy for him to take a step back from us, he was wholly committed to the Order. He would remember it only as an important lesson, one that would make him stronger in the end. And it did.”

The look Padmé gives me borders on incredulity, though I know it's pure sympathy.

“Contrary to him,” I continue, “I knew what I was doing. When my turn came to face judgement, I realized that what I knew I was capable of went against what I'd been taught since I'd come to the Order. I truly believed it was possible to have both love for another and dedication to one's duty. They were not mutually exclusive. And I believed that with proper instruction, one could experience both.

“My opinions were not well received by the council, especially as I was merely a Padawan and still quite young. It had taken a year of hard work to overcome the attachments to my past when I was a youngling and I promised the council that I would overcome this as well. Though to an extent, I already had. I knew that my duty to the Republic would always come first, no matter who I loved.

“The closer I came to the completion of my training, the more I realized I wasn’t going to have the adventurous life of a Jedi that I had dreamed of. What began as a feeling that I might be relegated to the archives became a statement of fact. The council felt they couldn’t completely trust me. I'd wondered at the time why I wasn’t simply expelled.

“I spoke with Master Yoda and after much deliberation, I decided that it was best for me to leave the Order. He sympathized with the position I’d been put in and supported my decision to return to Alderaan. I’d been scheduled to begin my final trials but after arranging my departure with Bail, to whom I told this story, though with less detail, I simply didn’t show up on the appointed day. Instead, I was light years away, standing at the entrance of one of the gardens at the royal palace in Aldera, working up the courage to say hello to a brother I hadn't seen in seventeen years.”

She reaches to take my hand, giving it a quick squeeze before leaning back into the sofa once more. Concern and sympathy radiate from her and I'm grateful that I've had the opportunity to get to know this woman. 

I stand, ready to take my leave, and brush my hands down my overdressed to smooth it. She stands slowly to stave off any remaining dizziness she might be feeling and walks me to the door.

Before I leave, I turn to face her. "It’s taken me years to accept myself, to see myself as something other than a failure. My time working with Bail in the Senate has shown me that I can fulfill my duty to the Republic outside of the Jedi Order."

"Thank you, Rhyssa, for telling me," Padmé says with a smile. "I'm glad you're on our side and I hope everything we're doing isn't in vain."

Images, memories of persistent visions, flash through my mind as my expression remains passive. I nod.

"I would ask that you not mention this," she gestures subtly to her midsection, "to anyone."

"Of course, Senator," I say as the door to her apartment swishes open silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much thanks to my loyal reader(s). This was a chapter I'd written in some form or another years ago and had to find a way to put story around it. Next will be back to the "present" though I'm still working out exactly what it will cover so an update take some time.


	7. Chapter 7

0 ABY

 

"I shouldn't be gone more than a day, two at most," I say to Rabs, quietly enough so as not to disturb the heartfelt goodbyes to my right. Fri'mal embraces both Keeri and Shem in turn as he will not be returning with me at the end of this trip.

I'm proud of his decision, though part of me wishes _I_ was willing to do more myself. My apparent inability to push aside my concern for the safety of my daughter on the other side of this war is troubling. Perhaps I should take a more active role in tracking her down.

"Be safe," Rabs says, reaching around my head, taking the edge of my scarf and pulling it up to cover my head. It's the only bit of disguise I think is necessary on this world, despite a steady Imperial presence.

There's an intensity in Rabs's eyes that makes me want to reach out, to envelop myself in the emotions that must be radiating from him. But I hold back, unready to let myself...feel. Instead I nod, hiding from his penetrating gaze.

Fri'mal breaks from the others and comes to bid farewell to Rabson. They clasp arms and Rabs wishes the pilot luck.

I turn back once as we exit our landing bay. Only Rabs is still outside the ship, watching Fri'mal and I depart.

*****

We walk through the bustling underground city that is Pinyumb, heading for the public transportation hub. It isn't clear on the other side of the city, but it is a decent hike that takes us through two of the city's markets.

The first of the two is the more interesting. Being closer to the spaceport, the colors, aromas, and noises are as varied as its patrons. Neither Fri'mal nor I stand out though each of us is more than a head taller than the native Sullustans. Loud voices of vendors assault us as we push our way through the crowded market.

Before a hand can brush my side, I grab tightly onto a scrawny wrist. The would-be pickpocket pulls against my grip before giving up and moving in to bite my hand. I'm faster than he is, releasing him back into the ebb and flow of the crowd.

Fri'mal shakes his head and we keep moving. 

Once at the transportation hub, I pull out the credits I was able to rescue from the youngling to book our tickets on a transport to one of Sullust's smaller cities. We ride in near silence to our destination.

The streets are not so crowded here and we make good time walking to the building noted on the data card Lemmy gave me. The code phrase gains us entry to the smuggler's den and we wait as an associate fetches our contact.

A Sullustan male in a red tunic, black gloves, and leather headgear introduces himself as Nien Nunb. We exchange guarded pleasantries, neither quite trusting the other just yet, despite the tangled web of secrets and codes it took Fri'mal and I to get here. Discreetly, I edge toward the topic of the Rebellion, letting slip my Alderaanian heritage.

At this, he perks up, a twitch in his oversized jowels. He tells me he's very recently been contacted regarding an enclave of Alderaanians on Sullust and is heading to assist their evacuation. I can't help but wonder what the Force has in store as this appears beyond coincidental.

The smuggler accepts on offer of help from myself and Fri'mal regarding the evacuation, with a promise to bring my copilot to the proper contact for joining the Rebellion once everyone is safe.

It doesn't take long to get the evacuees from the caverns loaded onto the ship. The final group brings a pang of something familiar yet full of sorrow. In the crowd is a man, tall with a shock of red hair peeking out from the front of his cap, sweeping across his forehead. But it's not only the stature or the hair. His presence is familiar.

He stops and turns when he hears me call out breathlessly. "Ei'zen…." I know the man isn't my brother, he's much too young, but the resemblance cannot be ignored.

The man meets my eyes, and from a distance, I can see his are light, either green or blue. We stand, motionless, the crowd passing us by like water flowing around rocks in a stream.

He makes his way toward me, pulling the cap from his head. "Aunt Rhyssa," he asks cautiously.

I didn't expect to find that any of my family had survived. Studying the man in front of me carefully with _all_ my senses, I nod, fighting back tears. "Ny'all?"

He answers my query with a nod of his own before shoving aside all decorum and pulling me into a hug.

"You look so much like your father," I say into his shoulder, unsure if he even hears me.

"What are you doing here, Auntie," he asks, releasing me from our hug but keeping his hands on my arms, the physical connection comforting to us both. "You left so abruptly and without a word, we weren't even sure you had survived."

"I'm sorry for that, I didn't want to leave, but I…." I clear my throat, pushing that conversation to a later time. "We're here to meet with someone from the Rebellion," I say, gesturing with a tilt of my head to Fri'mal who has been been waiting patiently to the side. Stepping back out of my nephew's grip, I introduce the two, explaining that Fri'mal will be leaving my crew to take an active role with the Rebel Alliance.

After introductions, Fri'mal steps away to give us what little privacy there is to have and I speak quietly to my nephew. "What will you do now? Do you know of anyone else that might have been off-planet?"

"No," he answers, voice filled with anguish. "I was the only one."

Pulling him back into a tight embrace, we mourn our lost family together for a long moment. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. When we break apart once more, I wipe the tears from my cheeks. "You could come with me. I know it's been too long and that you don't really even know who I am, but I have a ship. And a crew. And we could get to know one another…"

The corner of his mouth turns up as he nods slowly. "Okay. If that's an invitation? Yes."

"It is," I say, letting the warmth of my sincerity bleed into my voice.

Our reunion is cut short as the remainder of the evacuees make their way aboard and we prepare to lift off. I head to the cockpit, strapping in to the seat behind the smuggler.

It doesn't take us long to get to the ship, the _Lord Junn_ , in a loose orbit around Sullust. We hang back while a woman enthusiastically greets Nien Nunb. It appears the contact Lemmy provided is quite well connected.

Nien takes a moment and waves me forward, introducing me as a private freighter pilot who happened to be in the right place at the right time to assist with the evacuation. In turn, I introduce my copilot and my nephew.

"It's good to meet survivors," the woman, Evaan, says as she clasps my hand with both of hers.

"It's good to know that there are survivors at all, though they are scattered throughout the galaxy," I reply. "I understand you might be able to help my friend here."

Fri'mal steps forward and dips his head in agreement.

"He's a good pilot and has an interest in joining your cause."

"The destruction of your homeworld," Fri'mal begins, shaking his head in sorrow, "is something that should never have happened. I will stand with you against the Empire, if you will allow it."

"We can always use experienced pilots. Please, follow me. You should meet with the person responsible for _all_ of this!"

She turns back toward Nien Nunb, throwing an arm over his shoulders once she's caught him up. Glancing first at Fri'mal and then my nephew, I shrug and we do as Evaan has asked.

It isn't until we're in one of the spacious compartments of the _Lord Junn_ that I realize who exactly it is we're meeting. I try to cover the shock that crosses my face, clamping my jaw quickly shut. We'd heard briefly about the recent Battle of Yavin so I shouldn't have been so surprised to see the Princess. But hearing something and seeing with my own eyes are two very different things.

We wait a respectful distance away as she expresses her gratitude to Nien Nunb. Stepping toward her when she's finished, I kneel, dropping my head in deference to her position. "Your Highness…"

*****

Back in the caverns, we, my nephew and I, hire a shuttle to return to Pinyumb. The thought of him by my side threatens to overwhelm my fragile emotions once again.

"So what brought you to be with the group on Sullust," I ask as the cavernous world slips by outside the shuttle.

"I came along to study the soil, to see what plants might be able to grow with a lack of natural sunlight in the more temperate climates of the caverns," Ny'all says.

He's held on to the Jade family tradition which brings a smile to my face. I wonder that I strayed so far from the life the rest of my family led. My thoughts drift toward my daughter. To how different her life must be even from my own, and more so from the family she barely knew.

Ny'all's hand on mine draws me back to our minimally cushioned seats on the shuttle.

"Are you all right, Auntie?"

I take a deep breath and nod. Knowing one member of my family has survived the destruction of Alderaan is heartening. I will myself to focus on the young man sitting next to me. He needs family as much as I do now.

"I'm happy you decided to join me." There is so much more I want to say, but I can't bring myself to voice all the things in my head. Not yet.

He offers me a subdued smile and we ride the rest of the distance in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you reader(s) for your patience! I accidentally got a little hyper-focused on the KOTOR books and comics. I am, sadly, done with what I've found to read on the Shan family drama. With my attention momentarily back on Tahm and her crew, I finally got this chapter to a point where I felt like I was done.
> 
> Next up will be some scenes from the Clone War and more Bail Organa.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Clone War continues while Rhyssa does her best to come to terms with how war changes people, herself included. Also, let's introduce a young Anakin Skywalker!
> 
> A huge thanks to JadedMara for the initial read through!

22-21 BBY

“What’s this, here,” Senator Organa asks, pointing at a small dot on the 3-dimensional holographic map laid out before us. The landmark or whatever it is sits what looks to be nearly 40 clicks from the topographical indicators of the capital city we’re currently in.

One of the Christophsians steps forward to take a look. “I believe that settlement is a religious enclave of some sort.”

Bail and I share a questioning glance, neither of us aware of such settlements on Christophsis. I try, unsuccessfully, to imagine the expression of the clone lieutenant standing with us at the holotable.

“They take in many of Chaleydonia’s orphans,” the local explains. “To keep them from starving on the streets.”

“Do they have means to retreat into the city?” The concern is plain on the senator’s face.

The Christophsian shakes his head. “Not likely, no.”

Our motley group studies the map for a while longer in silence. The Separatist’s droid army is still a good distance from both the city and settlement. For now. There’s no telling how long that will last.

Bail asks the lieutenant a number of questions regarding the LAAT/is, leading toward the eventual request that we use them to retrieve those in the settlement. The lieutenant is not entirely on board with the idea, but it takes only a little of the Senator’s powers of persuasion to change his mind. Another few minutes of discussion and Sheltay Retrac, Senator Organa’s newest aide, and I are climbing aboard one of the three gunships, ready to convince the Christophsians of the settlement to abandon their home.

As we lift off the ground, my hand grips the bar above my head and I’m thankful the doors on each side of the craft begin to close. With them open, I’d worry more about having to redo my complex hairstyle. It is admittedly simpler than most formal Alderaanian styles, but it would still require time I simply didn’t have. Next to me, Sheltay breathes a sigh of relief, her long fall of dark hair settling as well.

Once on the ground, there’s little time for us to wonder at the beauty of the crystalline structures that seem more prevalent outside the capital city. In passing, I can see it’s breathtaking and I try to take in as much as we can as our Christophsian guide speaks quickly with a member of the settlement.

The guide gestures for Sheltay and I to join him and the settlement elder, with a belated instruction that we are to leave our clone trooper escorts - and their weapons - with the ships. We make our way to the main building of the compound. Between myself, Sheltay, and our guide, the situation is explained to a group of elders along with what we hope to accomplish by being here.

With great reluctance, he agrees to let us take the children and any of the adults who wish to go to safety is Chaleydonia. My comm unit beeps and I let Sheltay continue negotiations while I answer the call from the senator.

“The planet has been blockaded,” Senator Organa says, his blue-hued figure crackling in and out, a clear sign of some kind of interference. “I lost the transmission to General Skywalker. I’m not sure when we’ll get relief supplies. But you may have a bigger problem. Separatist forces are on the move.”

“How long do we have?”

The lieutenant steps into the image and confers with the senator. “Lieutenant Dyne’s estimate puts the droid army at your position in about an hour.”

 _Plenty of time_. I nod. “Copy, sir. We’ll get everyone loaded up and be back as quickly as possible.”

Returning to the group, I pass along the information from Bail. The group breaks quickly to assist in rounding up the children and their minders, leading them back to our landing site. By the time all are ready, the three LAAT/is with little room to spare, I can hear the Separatist tanks in the far distance. I shove down the sick feeling knowing there was nothing Sheltay, nor I, nor any of the others could do to convince a number of the elder settlers to leave with us.

At the command center, the next worry, now that the children are safer, if not entirely safe, is supplies. As Bail had said, the blockade has prevented any Republic vessels from reaching us. Sheltay and I distribute what little we have while I do my best to exude a sense of calm to settle the younglings, a task that becomes infinitely more difficult when the city around us is rocked by a Separatist bombing run. I resist the urge to lean more into the Force to keep them quiet and excuse myself to go speak with Bail at the command center.

“I was able to get a transmission off to General Kenobi,” he yells over the whine of more bombers screeching by not quite overhead.

Smoke rises from locations all over the city around us and I can’t stop the silent plea that exits my mind. _Come on, Obi-Wan, we're counting on you._ My eyes widen in horror at my carelessness - I hadn't meant to project - and I tighten the shielding that I’d accidentally let slip. I don’t know if he heard me, there’s quite a distance between us. All I can do is hope that he didn’t. “You’ll let me know if the Republic is able to break the blockade,” I ask the Senator, brandishing my comm as I turn to head back to the shelter, my fellow senatorial aide, and the younglings, frustrated with my slip.

General Skywalker is the first to arrive on the surface, accompanied by a few troops and a shipload of supplies. The relief is welcome. Even before all the crates are unloaded, Sheltay and I are at work distributing rations and medical supplies to all those who have taken refuge in the camp, not just the ones we brought here from the settlement. Those children, however, are the ones who have the greatest impact on me. With the Separatist army already at the outskirts of Chaleydonia, I shudder to think of what happened to the settlement. To their home.

Sheltay lays a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right,” she asks quietly.

It’s a moment before I can nod, turning to meet her dark eyes. “Yes. I’m sorry, my mind was...elsewhere. Where were we?”

I almost don’t feel it, the familiarity. “On second thought,” I say, grabbing her forearm before she can answer. “I think I might return to the ship for a bit. I find I’m not feeling so well after all.”

She nods and offers me a warm smile. “Of course. I’ll continue here.”

Bail is concerned when I tell him I’m taking a short reprieve in the ship but doesn’t stop me. I offer assurances that it is nothing severe as the air around us shifts with the approach of another Republic shuttle, which settles next to the senator's ship. Turning to leave, I build up the wall around my presence in the Force. I won’t run, but I’m not above lowering my gaze to the ground and walking briskly to the senator’s ship. On the ramp, I turn back for a quick look.

He’s not the man I remember. Not really. Perhaps it’s just the armor, the way it changes how he carries himself. War changes people. And perhaps I, too, am far from the person I was six years ago.

Turning once more to head into the ship, my thoughts dwell on the past. I miss my friend, but for my own safety and, I can't shake the feeling that the safety of my senator and my queen is at stake as well, my old friend cannot know I survived.

*****

Perhaps because of Senator Organa’s achievements of Christophsis, or his continued successes on trade missions, we’re contacted by Master Yoda and General Kenobi about a plan for assisting the people of Ryloth. I would agree that Bail’s presence is...preferable...to keep the negotiations going smoothly, based on the situation as it was described to us. While I have no doubt in the sincerity of Representative Binks, Bail agrees with the Jedi that this particular negotiation might be too much for him to handle on his own.

Our detour to Toydaria is longer than I’d expected, owing to an appearance by the representative for the Trade Federation. I wouldn’t normally complain, but the senator requested that I remain on board the ship for our time here. A quick comm from Bail updates me on the situation.

There is, however, nothing for me to do but wait. I tuck the comm unit back into a hidden pocket on the inside of my overdress and settle myself back into my meditation. I’m in my own quarters on the ship so I can be a bit more free with my meditation than if I were in one of the common areas. Time has always slipped away easily from me during meditation and so I don’t know how much time passes before the hard deck, softened with an assortment of fabric and pillows that make up my dedicated meditation area, begins to fade away from underneath me.I _know_ that I am still in my quarters, but the _feeling_ of being in my quarters disappears.

At first, I turn inwards, focusing on the torrent of emotions that have been cropping up at the mention of my old friend, General...no, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. It’s something I’ve been intending to do since Christophsis. Senator Organa, merely echoing the general consensus of Alderaan, has always had a respectful relationship with the Jedi Order. It was that relationship that made my return home possible. The war has only strengthened that bond, though perhaps my taking a position on the senator’s staff was an earlier indication of that as well.

Regardless how it came about, the close relationship between Bail and the Order along with Master Kenobi’s seat on the Jedi Council means that interaction is to be expected. While this most recent comm from Masters Yoda and Kenobi has shown me that I can keep my feelings from showing, I must _re-learn_ to release them. And for that, I must accept that I still feel something for him. I always will, I believe.

During my time at the Jedi Temple, the love I felt for my family on Alderaan remained part of me. It took time, but I learned to live fully in my new life while respecting my old one. I will do the same now, respecting and remembering the love in my heart for the family I made among the Jedi.

Regaining a sense of peace within, I focus outwards, feeling the presence of others, though I ensure the sense of them remains vague and distant, a skill Master Yoda taught me upon my return to Coruscant. It was a balancing act, the discipline of which was not as difficult as I’d expected. I could never truly hide all of my presence while reaching out, but Master Yoda’s techniques would at least allow me to maintain an anonymity behind a hazy and inconsistent light. In this way, I could still open myself up to the Force, to feel my connection with others like me, but remain protected.

_But what if there were no others?_

The thought jolts me from my peaceful, meditative state and I drop ungracefully back to the floor. My tailbone hurts, but my head is lucky enough to hit the edge of one of the scattered pillows when I tipped back, unable to catch myself, from the unexpected fall. I stand up slowly, rubbing my sore backside. I’ll just make some tea. That sounds like a good way to avoid thinking about what pulled me from meditation.

“Are you all right, Rhyssa,” Bail asks, smile faltering as he hurries up the ramp following the successful completion of his dealings with the king of Toydaria.

“Mostly,” I answer with a nod. “Though I think I ought to speak with Master Yoda when he is available.”

“Of course.” He places a warm hand on my shoulder. “I’ll arrange it as soon as we’re back on Coruscant.”

*****

Captain Typho greets me as the door slides open to reveal the main room of the suite provided by Senator Organa for the duration of the conference. The room itself has a picturesque view of the mountains outside the capital city.

Senator Amidala greets me as she enters from one adjoining rooms.

“Senator Organa asked me to see if you, your staff, and Padawan Tano were comfortable. And if you had need of anything.” I gesture to the small table near the sofa and chairs in the main room and Amidala’s head of security steps aside so I can set the tray with a teapot and cups down.

“The accommodations are lovely, Miss Veren. Do tell her highness, and Bail, that their generosity is greatly appreciated. This conference, I understand this is a cause close to your heart," Senator Amidala asks as she sits and pours out four cups of tea.

"Yes, Senator. My father's family, more than a few generations back, were offered refuge on Alderaan from a political crisis on their homeworld." I remain standing, as does Captain Typho, while the Togruta padawan takes an uneasy seat near the Senator.

Before I can continue, Senator Organa comes sweeping in and, having heard my reply, launches into a brief history of Alderaan's commitment to providing a home and inclusivity for those escaping strife across the galaxy. "Sometimes it takes several generations to truly integrate, but we allow each community to move at their own pace. It was three or four generations for your ancestors, am I correct, Rhyssa?"

I nod. "Some descendants chose to return, after the political climate had settled, but my great-grandfather decided to stay."

"I'd love to have your insight as I finalize my speech," Padme addresses me.

"Of course, Senator."

The Togruta padawan has remained silent throughout the exchange and continues to do so as the senators' discussion turns to the conference agenda. Her master clearly shares a close relationship with the Senate, or perhaps just the Senator, as she was given permission to not only escort Senator Amidala, but act as extra security. My thoughts drift to the one time I met her master.

_The Temple hallway opens high overhead, bathing the marble floor in swathes of warm sunlight. Ahead of me, a ways off but walking in my direction, I see my newly knighted friend. He and the boy with him stop occasionally as my friend points out interesting features here and there._

_A subdued smile crosses his face as he sees me approaching. We don't hug. Our individual scoldings three years ago have ensured our relationship remains friendly, yet professional, despite the feelings that remain. In me, at least._

_"Hello, Pa'lai," he greets, a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder._

_"Should you perhaps refer to me as 'padawan,' now,_ Master _Kenobi," I tease, eliciting a blush on his tired face. I smile, then clear my throat before reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his arm. "In all seriousness, Obi-Wan, I wanted to offer you my congratulations. And my condolences. I know this is not how you would've had it happen."_

_"Thank you."_

_"I wanted to be there - I would have been there - but my master and I were in the middle of a mission on Savareen."_

_The intensity in his eyes causes my heart to beat faster. I want to throw my arms around him, to pull him into a hug. There's the barest hint of movement from him as he nods._

_He takes a deep breath and looks down at the fidgeting boy. "Anakin, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Pa'lai Jade." Turning his attention back to me, "Pa'lai, this is Anakin Skywalker. We were headed to the dining hall, if you'd like to join us?"_

_Tempting as it is, I decline the invitation. I'd been on my way to the Archives to research an assignment my master had given me when I’d noticed the two of them. Our paths, however, are the same for a time and so I walk with them towards the dining hall._

_"Rumor around the Temple is that you're quite the accomplished pilot, Anakin," I say._

_His affirmative answer is given shyly. With some encouragement from Obi-Wan, the boy opens up a little more. I can tell that prior to coming to the Temple he was not always the shy boy he is at the moment. A few more moments and he's enthusiastically telling me about pod racing, of which I know very little so I let him explain it all in detail. I chance a look at Obi-Wan as the boy speaks, smiling at the relief plainly written on his face._

_"You know your master is actually an excellent pilot himself, though he'd never tell you that," I say conspiratorially to Anakin when he's exhausted himself on the subject of pod racing. "During your meal, be sure to ask Master Obi-Wan about flying a starfighter through the corridors of a Czerka Corporation cruiser on his mission to Pijal with his master."_

_"No, no. No, Pa’lai--"_

_His protests are in vain as I've already turned down the corridor that will take me to the Archives. I look back over my shoulder and give Obi-Wan and his padawan a genial wave. "Enjoy your meal," I say with a wink. My friend shakes his head and, because I know him well, I can see he catches himself before rolling his eyes._

The memory brings a smile to my face and I look toward the padawan again. I'm struck by just how young she seems, though I know I was younger than her when I became a Padawan. That, however, was during a time of relative peace. Or, at the very least, a sizable portion of the galaxy wasn't engulfed in an ever-expanding war.

My thoughts are interrupted when Senator Amidala offers me the extra cup of tea. I sit in the chair next to Senator Organa, take the cup, and observe the continued conversation regarding the details of the conference. When my cup is empty, I excuse myself and return to my own apartment near the one that belongs to my mother and father. Bail will call if he needs anything from me before the conference begins tomorrow.

When my comm unit goes off, I’m surprised to see that it isn’t Bail, but Padme, until I remember offering to answer any questions she might have about being the descendant of refugees. I’ve been visiting with my parents - my aunt and uncle to the outside world as Senator Organa, Master Yoda, and I set up my identity as a cousin to the deceased padawan I once was. Senator Amidala offers to come here, to my family’s apartment, to further discuss her speech.

My parents are up to receiving visitors even though they’ll have to go along with the lie of me not being their daughter. The explanation for our close relationship is easily understandable. As Rhyssa, I’ve not replaced the daughter they lost, but simply stepped in to take some of the burden off of them, becoming closer in the process.

I feel for Padawan Tano as she and Senator Amidala enter my parents’ home. I’d spent the first several years of my life here, but returning here after living so long with a paucity of personal items at the Jedi Temple was quite a shock. The padawan’s eyes roam nervously as she takes in the comfortably crowded room. It’s not just the cuttings of plants that my father brings home from the gardens. There are little trinkets, statuettes and the like, scattered across shelving - reminders of an event or a place they wanted to hold onto. Knitted throws and hand-sewn pillows of varying colors adorn the sofa and chairs in the main living space. Spilling out from a box in the corner, threatening to invade the rest of the room are toys belonging to my nephews, though only the younger of the two boys plays with them now.

The scene can be somewhat overwhelming to one not used to the presence of so many...things. It takes a while but the padawan eventually relaxes a bit. My mother has brought out tea, caf, and snacks for everyone. Padme peppers the three of us with questions both about our history and our views on all manner of topics relating to the current refugee crisis in the galaxy. My father recounts his experiences working to build gardens in Alderaan’s own refugee villages. In return, Padme speaks about her experience working with her father to resettle the populace of Shadda-Bi-Boran and how much it broke her heart that the population had not survived in the end.

It’s a vulnerability I hadn’t yet seen in the young senator and it endears her to me further.

For the conference, I'm ensconced in Senator Organa's office in the palace, watching by remote. Padawan Tano has handled herself admirably in protecting Senator Amidala. Without her quick actions, the assassination attempt surely would have succeeded.

The senator's injuries from the attempt and the general, entirely warranted, concern for her safety have the guards on edge. No one has yet found the assassin and so the padawan struggles to find peace. She is determined, however. There's a plan in place to draw out the assassin, much to Bail's chagrin.

A member of Senator Amidala's staff retrieved a blaster from her ship while Bail informed his staff, myself included, of what to expect. Once the others have gone back to their duties, I regard him with an arched brow.

"I am certainly not going to carry a blaster in my own home, Rhyssa," he says, shaking his head.  "You know our traditions are of peace."

"I'm not asking you to carry one here. But this does illustrate that while Alderaan believes in peace, lives in peace, others will not always respect that."

It's a conversation we've had more than once. His friendship with a senator who seems to be a magnet for trouble brought about that first conversation. I've tried to refrain from becoming more insistent now that the galaxy is at war, but I know I've failed to hold my tongue. I have also, on a few occasions, broached the subject with his wife. Alderaan's commitment to peace is absolute. My arguments for personal protection a product of my life away from those ideals.

"I understand it more than you realize." The weight of what's happened here and the war that continues to plague the galaxy are evident in his voice. "I have considered it, but I am not ready to make that decision just yet."

What turmoil must be inside of him to have even thought of agreeing to my request. The effects of this war, ever present, are bearing down on good people everywhere.

Bail breaks the solemn silence. "Well, I must return to the conference. Hopefully, we can catch this assassin before anyone else gets hurt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See! Not abandoned! Not that you, my loyal reader(s) need my excuses, but unfortunately I've had a ton of medical bullshit to go along with a full work schedule. And, you know, a huge case of writer's block.
> 
> So here it is, my newest chapter. I hope you like it better than I do (which is not much, honestly).


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some Obi-Wan Force ghost? It's time for he crew to leave Sullust, but the Empire has become more suspicious of ships leaving the system. This is a dialogue heavy chapter...sorry?

0 ABY

“Good, you’re all back,” I begin. “We have cargo. But first, I’d like all of you to meet Ny’all. He’ll be joining us for the time being.” My gaze shifts to the tall young man next to me and I know my expression borders on pleading. “Or perhaps longer?”

Ny’all offers me a warm smile and a timid nod.

“I didn’t think you’d planned to replace Fri as pilot so quickly,” Rabs says. There’s no hint of hostility in his voice, but he’s clearly hurt. Or jealous. Regardless, I’d rather not deal with either emotion at the moment.

“I’m not a pilot--”

“Ny’all is my nephew,” I interject, halting any further speculations from my crew.

It works. A stunned silence settles over them, the only sounds the occasional creaks and groans of the metal of the hull.

“He’s been working with a group from Alderaan here on Sullust and my...meeting...just so happened to bring me into their vicinity,” I explain. The fact that he is now among only a small group of Alderaanian survivors across the galaxy goes left unsaid.

Shem is the first to step forward, introducing himself as the crew’s weapons expert. “Not that we require much use for weapons, but there are the occasional run-ins with pirate groups,” he adds with what I assume he intends as reassurance.

“This is Keeri, our slicer.” I gesture towards the youngest member of the crew.

“And this is our mechanic, Rabson. Though I’ve been teaching him how to pilot.”

Rabs steps forwards, offering a handshake in greeting.

“I’m not sure what all I have to offer,” Ny’all says sheepishly. “I’m just a gardener.”

“Nonsense,” Shem says happily, patting the much taller man roughly on the arm as he passes by. “An extra pair of hands is always welcome, especially when there is cargo to move.” He drops down into the cargo hold, his footfalls echoing on the durasteel plating before slowly disappearing as he heads down the ramp and onto the loading dock. Ny’all and Keeri follow after him.

I begin to go myself, but Rabs’s strong hand around my forearm stops me. “We were starting to worry. Thought you might’ve gotten picked up.”

I shake my head. “I can’t tell you everything, certainly not at the moment.” My voice drops to a whisper. “We had to help them get off planet. There’s no telling what the Empire would have done to them.”

We can hear Shem chatting with my nephew as they settle the first load. I gesture towards the cargo hold. Rabs sighs and reluctantly follows me.

Once the cargo is loaded and secured, I take one last walk down to the loading dock to look around. To my surprise, Lemmy waves me down from the entrance of our berth. She gives me updated documents and a manifest for the cargo and offers me a quiet warning. The Empire knows of the Aderaanian remnant and is suspicious of ties to the rebellion. There may be more scrutiny on any ship leaving Sullust. I make a note to have Keeri check our codes and adjust as needed.

My life has been a study in mastering my emotions. From my training to my time as a senator’s aide to my years on the run from the Empire, keeping what I feel inside from showing on my face or in my posture comes as second nature. The manifest Lemmy gave me has identities myself and my crew have used before which makes Keeri’s job a little easier.

The one exception is Ny’all. We haven’t had time to create false information for him. If we get stopped, if we get boarded, it’s him I have to worry about. Thinking through the various options, I rule out attempting to lock him in one of the hidden compartments. The next best option? For my nephew’s sake, I hope it’s one I don’t have to use.

It doesn’t take long after we leave atmosphere for the black of space for the worst case scenario to indeed happen. I leave Shem to answer the comms, Keeri at his side to upload the requested documents, and run to the galley. From the back of one of the cabinets, I wrap my hand around a dust-covered bottle. Keeri was able to do a quick slice on one of Fri’mal’s idents, inserting a holo capture of Ny’all before we left the ground, but anything closer than a cursory glance will reveal it as a fake.

Ny’all is sitting on the lower bunk in his new quarters when I rush in, handing him the bottle. “Drink this. It's going to make you very sick very quickly. It won’t be pleasant, but it should keep anyone from trying to take a good look at you.”

He stares at it a moment before tipping it back for one gulp. He pulls the bottle away from his lips with a grimace. “That really is foul, auntie.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. One more drink.”

He does as I ask, shoving the bottle back at me as he tries not to retch on the taste. Already, I can see sweat beginning to bead on his temples. The nausea will set in quickly.

Returning the bottle to the back of the cabinet, I check on the two in the cockpit.

“They are nearly ready to board us, Captain.” It’s only a small ship coming along side. Most likely just a patrol left behind and told to watch for ships leaving Sullust; an overzealous lieutenant looking for a promotion.

I nod and head out to the docking port, ready to meet our Imperial guests. “Let me do the talking,” I tell Rabs as he joins me to wait, forcibly relaxing my posture so I’m nearly slouching.

Rabs releases the airlock with a hiss and in steps a man in a perfectly pressed black uniform, boots so shiny they reflect every available light source within ten meters, and who is much too old to still be wearing lieutenant insignia.

“Captain…” He squints down at the datapad in his hands. “...Fonti, I presume.” 

“Oi yeah, that’s me, Comman’er,” I answer in an exaggerated backwater accent, watching as a muscle in his jaw twitches.

“It’s Lieutenant,” he snarls. Clearing his throat in an attempt to regain his composure, he continues. “Your manifest says you’re hauling cargo bound for...Ganthel. You were hired by a Sullustan called Myub.”

“Thas right. Been doin’ runs for Tae for a bit now. Wha’ can I say, eh, the liddle man likes me.”

The muscle twitches again. He motions for a stormtrooper to check the cargo hold.

By this time the trooper is back, the rest of the crew, minus one, has made their way to the common area.

“The cargo checks out, sir,” the electronically filtered voice tells the officer.

“Idents,” the lieutenant demands.

Everyone passes their chips to me and I hand them over to the officer. Every time one checks out, he gets a little more frustrated.

“Scanners showed one more lifeform on board.”

“Aye, well, that’ll be Manzow. He took a bi’ ill down planetside. Prob'ly just food poisonin', but he's in his bunk, 'n case it's catching.”

“I still need to scan his ident, Captain.” He practically spits the last word, contempt for me clear in his voice.

Just as I’d planned. And now we are to see if the rest of my plan will work.

I lead the lieutenant to the crew quarters. The door whisks open to reveal “Manzow” doubled over in his bunk, clutching his abdomen. The room smells of sweat and sick.

The Imperial takes an immediate step back before mustering his courage and stepping into the compartment. He holds out his hand. "Ident."

Ny'all reaches a clammy, shaking hand into a pocket and pulls out the hastily doctored ident chip. He can only stretch his arm so far..

The lieutenant hesitates, eventually stepping forward to take the card. But before he gets close enough, Ny'all vomits once more. Unfortunately for the officer, not into the bucket I'd provided for him.

While most of the sick ends up on the deck, a few splotches mar the sheen of the officer's boots. He looks like he might be sick himself as he about faces and storms out of the crew quarters.

"All your credentials are in order, Captain," he says, thrusting the datapad into the hands of the nearest trooper, frustrated. Before stepping through the airlock, he turns back, looking in the direction of the crew quarters and then to me. He huffs once and leaves. The troopers follow.

Without waiting for the patrol ship to release the docking clamps, I head for the galley to grab some tea leaves that will help soothe my nephew. In the time it takes to get the water boiling and the tea steeped, Shem and Rabs have the deck cleaned up.

I coax Ny'all into sitting up again and hand him the cup of tea. The change isn't instantaneous but nearly so. In a matter of minutes the shaking stops and a few minutes after that, the nausea is minimal. I push sweat-dampened hair off his forehead, letting soothing energy flow from my touch into him.

"How did you know that would work," Rabs asks from the doorway.

"I've used it on myself once or twice. On your own, you feel better after several hours of sleep. The tea speeds up the recovery process."

"And the Imperial," Ny'all asks, forcing his voice past the rawness in this throat.

I smile. "He's looking for that big catch that will hopefully get him noticed, get him pulled from Outer Rim duty and back to the core. Especially now, with the high loss of personnel from the destruction of the Death Star."

"You got all that from one look?"

I stand and head back to the cockpit. "From the neatly pressed uniform? The very shiny boots? That, and more."

"You were provoking him," Rabs adds, following closely behind. "Watching his face for reactions. Like when you called him 'Commander.'"

"I do know the difference between a lieutenant's and a commander's insignia, yes."

“Just as long as I never have to hear  _ that  _ accent again, Captain.”

“It was a bit too much, wasn’t it,” I ask, unable to hide the smile as I turn to face him, sliding into the pilot’s seat.

I set our coordinates and we make the jump. The adrenaline we all felt at the Imperial inspection begins to wane. Ny’all is already sleeping off the rest of the irritant I’d made him drink and the others soon join him. This time, Rabs offers to remain on watch in the copilot’s seat so I can lie down for some proper sleep during our time in hyperspace. I realize just how long it has been since I last slept and hesitate only for a moment.

“Go,” Rabs insists. “You need it more than I do.”

I nod and make my way to our quarters. It doesn’t take long after climbing into my bunk to feel as though my muscles are melting into the mattress. I needed this more than I realized, I think hazily as I drift off to sleep.

 

_ As the beat up starship settles on its landing struts, I look out from my semi-secure parking area in the shallow cave. A smile crosses my face. The makeshift hangar is far enough away from the house that I’m surprised to see her running instead of riding the eopie. _

_ “Shouldn’t you be training,” I call out as I make my way down the ramp, the corroded metal shuddering under my boots. _

_ “Call it endurance training,” she says as she throws her arms around me, pulling me into a warm hug. “I missed you, mama.” _

_ “I missed you too, my dear.” I plant a kiss on her forehead. “Though you could have brought along Neda for your poor, old mother.” _

_ "Neda's gone, mama. We have Nuli now." She bumps me with her shoulder. “And besides, you’re not that old,” she says with a laugh. _

_ If only that were true. “Help me cover the ship?” _

_ She nods excitedly and follows my lead as I raise my left hand to the rocks littered about the entrance of the cave. Calm settles over me as the Force flows through and around me. The rocks begin to shift and the ship disappears from view. _

_ Sweat beads in my daughter’s hairline, a combination of the desert heat, her run from the house to the ship, and the exertion from moving the rocks. _

_ “Are you regretting not riding out to meet me,” I ask, throwing my pack over my shoulder as we begin the trek back to the house. _

_ Ben - he’s chosen to use the pseudonym he’d used once before - is outside, working through lightsaber forms with Luke. “You’re late, Mara,” he says, all business in tone, but with a slight smirk I’d recognize a kilometer away. _

_ “I know, da. Mama wasn’t up to run home from the ship.” _

_ I shake my head and smile, passing the lightsaber I keep in the inner pocket of my jacket to her open and waiting palm. _

_ She flashes me a toothy grin and runs to join Ben and Luke. I watch the trio for another moment before turning into the house. _

_ It feels good to be out of the oppressive heat of the two suns. Opening the pack, I begin unloading the supplies I picked up in my months of travel, stacking the non-perishable items as neatly as possible on the rough shelving. I putter around a few minutes more, arranging things, removing this and that from the pack, arranging some more. Finally, I go back to stand in the door frame, watching as the two young people continue to practice, blue and green blades moving in unison on the small ridge above the house. _

_ Walking this way, tattered brown cloak billowing behind him, is Ben. Only it isn’t the Ben Kenobi I’d see occasionally in dreams. This is  _ him _ , somehow, coming to me in my dream. I can  _ feel  _ it in the Force. _

_ He reaches up with the back of his hand and runs rough knuckles gently down the side of my face, lingering under my chin to lift my face to his. “I’ve missed you,” he says quietly. _

_ I smile, partly at the impossibility of it all and partly with the joy of being able to bask in the warm light that has always been his presence in the Force. “You got old, Obi-Wan.” _

_ “Two suns and biting sandstorms will do that," he answers, nodding his head to the world of sand and stone outside the doorway in my dream. _

_ There’s the smirk I remember so fondly. _

_ A not-wholly unexpected regret washes over me as I look towards the two teenagers on the ridge and he takes my hand in his. _

_ “It likely wouldn't have turned out this way, Pa’lai, even if you had brought her here. Luke’s aunt and uncle did not allow me to train him.” _

_ I turn my gaze from them to focus back on Obi-Wan. “It was your death I saw. Back on Alderaan all those years ago, not long after I’d left the Order. At the time, and for a long time after, I didn’t know who it was.” _

_ We stand in silence for a time as the first of the two suns nears the horizon, the second following in its wake. _

_ “I don’t even know if that’s how she really looks,” I say, gesturing to the thinly muscled girl with reddish gold hair that reminds me so much more of her father’s as it was before than my own copper-auburn I’d long since abandoned. She’s currently attempting to goad the older boy into a sparring match. “She was barely thirteen the last time I saw her.” _

_ “Perhaps this is the Force allowing you a glimpse of who she truly is, despite the ways in which the Emperor may have molded her.” _

_ I force back the tears, though one slips down my cheek. Wiping it away quickly, I look at Obi-Wan, his clear blue eyes full of sympathy and understanding.  _ Thank you _. _

_ “How much did Bail tell you,” I ask aloud after a moment, suddenly self-conscious. _

_ “As much as he felt it was safe to tell me.” _

_ I cock my head to the side, raising my eyebrows. That is not enough of an answer and he knows it. _

_ He laughs, a beautiful sound if only because I haven’t heard it since we were children, and settles his back against the doorframe. His eyes search me over intently - though I’m not sure what he’s looking for - until he breathes out a sigh. His calloused fingers brush aside the open collar of my shirt revealing the faint scarring that isn’t usually there in my dreams. The look he gives me, thankfully, isn’t one of pity. “I knew you were in pain,” he says simply. _

_ I lean into the warmth of his open palm as it brushes my cheek and moves back to my ear, his fingers parting the loosely gathered hair of my braid. He rests his forehead against mine. “I felt it, what was done to you, though only a fraction of it and the anguish left behind. I reached out to Bail and he sent me the holorecording you’d left for him when you returned his ship.” _

_ A sly smile breaks on my lips at the memory of poor Captain Antilles waking up tied to his seat on the bridge, confused after the stun blast. _

_ “I half expected you to surface on Tatooine.” _

_ “I never would have put you or the boy in danger like that.” _

_ Without a word, he pulls back, turning his gaze upon the boy and the girl. One contemplative breath followed by another. And another. “Do not worry yourself too much over her fate, Pa’lai. She has her mother’s strength to survive this war and everything that has come before it. One day she will stand fully in the light.” _

_ “And now it’s time for me to go and for you to wake up.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments and kudos are cherished/worshiped in my shrine to my readers and a total and complete surprise for me. Thank you for your patience, it took some time to decide on the first half of this chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains torture via Sith lightning.
> 
> Based off a small section in Chapter 1 and inspired by one line in the previously posted Chapter 9, this is the moment Tahm begins her life on the run and all of the terrible things that lead her to it.

~14 BBY

 

I kneel down to meet my daughter at eye level. “You must stay here, Mara. No matter what happens, what you hear or what you see. You  _ stay  _ on the ship.” I hope my voice doesn’t betray the desperate feeling welling up inside me.

“Yes, mama,” she says, my own fear reflected in her green eyes.

I press my lips to her forehead, inhaling deeply what I’m afraid will be the last scent of my baby girl. Standing up, I make eye contact with my assistant, Sareia. “Do not let her go.”

She nods.

On my way to the ramp, I stop briefly at the familiar sight of the blue and white astromech. It whistles low at me when I beckon, rolling over to close the distance. In a whisper I ask it to record everything from here on out. Audio, definitely, visuals if able. As discreetly as possible. “If you can appear powered down, the better.”

The droid replies in a series of quiet beeps.

I straighten back up, smoothing my hands down the front of my overdress and take one last deep breath to calm myself.

“Your Excellency,” I begin, taking long strides down the boarding ramp. Keeping my distance, I kneel in front of the Emperor and bow my head respectfully. “Your visit to our humble world is unexpected. Please, allow me to fetch Senator Organa. I am certain he would wish to greet you in person. We were merely completing final preparations before departing on a mission to provide relief supplies to…”

“That will be unnecessary,” he interrupts, each word clipped as though anger rests just behind his thoughts.

A smile, if it can be called that at all, spreads across the man’s face. The temperature in the hangar seems to drop a few degrees.

“It is you I am here to see.”

My heart races, my breaths become shallow.  _ He knows _ . “Me? Your Excellency, I am surprised by such an honor. I’m merely a senator's aide, no one of consequence, I assure you,” I say, making no attempt to mask my surprise. “Allow me to at least inform Senator Organa that you are here.” I bow my head again and begin to turn towards the hangar exit.

A vision from years earlier, from that horrible and wonderful night, plays through my thoughts. A young girl being carried away, screaming for her mother. Tears prick my eyes.  _ Please. Please, do not let her go. _ A fear greater than I have ever known threatens to bring to my knees as Palpatine speaks again.

“I’ve come for the girl, the one you’ve attempted to hide in plain sight.”

Forcing a strength into my voice that I do not feel, I answer. “You’re mistaken, Your Excellency. I have no daughter.”

Turning fully to leave I say again that I will contact the senator.

“Do not lie to me, Pa’lai Jade,” he says quietly but with enough venom that I can feel it in my bones.

My whole body freezes. I’ve failed to protect her, to care for her as a mother should. My world comes crashing down around me as I turn to face the Sith. His wicked smile only increases. I don’t have my lightsaber, it sits in its little box in my quarters like always, useless.

“Yes,” he mewls, the sound drawn out and filled with foreboding. “Yes, I know about you and your training. Your relationship with the Jedi.” He spits the last word as if it were a curse.

I step forward to protest but never get the chance. Arcs of white-blue lightning hit my body. But my feet are planted and the Force is with me so I am able to hold my ground. For a moment. The pain becomes too much and I drop to the hard hangar floor. When he lets up after what felt like minutes, though only a few seconds have passed, I draw in a ragged breath

 “Where is her father? Where is the Jedi?”

“Her father was a pilot,” I manage to say, my throat pained and swollen as though I’ve been screaming.

“More lies.” More lightning.

Fire tears through my insides, burning every muscle and every nerve ending as it goes. This time, I can hear the screaming. Is that really coming from me?

He relents once more.

“He’s dead,” I sob. “He’s dead, I swear. Before she was born.”

For a moment, my foolish mind thinks he might spare me any more pain. I begin to push myself back up to kneeling when the next onslaught hits. Something has changed. The electricity that lays into me isn’t as strong. I’m tired, so very tired, but I surround myself with the Force. But it’s too late.

“Mama!”

Through tears, I see her. Everything I didn’t want is happening. I gather what remaining strength I have and attempt to get up from the hangar floor again. “ Please, she's only a child. I've not trained her. She doesn't know anything.”  It isn’t enough.

“Seize the girl,” I hear him say. Everything around me - his voice, my daughter’s screams, the bootfalls of the trooper moving to grab her - sounds muddled, like I’m under water and cannot reach the surface.

Another unrelenting volley from the Sith’s fingertips and my arms give out for good.

“Mara!” My own voice sounds distant as my head swims, edging towards unconsciousness. The cries of my daughter follow me into blackness.

The darkness begins to recede. I can’t help but wonder if this is what death feels like. The sound of a shuttle’s repulsorlift tells me I’m still alive. Barely. I’m able to lift my head from the cold hangar floor in time to see the Emperor’s shuttle take to the peaceful Alderaanian sky. Why would he leave me alive?

“Copy, sir,” the modulated voice of one of the troopers left behind says.

I can sense two coming closer, blasters raised. Drawing on the Force for strength, I reach out. There are three in total. When I begin to get up, they stop their advance, adopting a more defensive posture. My hand reaches for my blaster. One of the three fires. I’m able to anticipate the shot and avoid it, moving not for cover, but for the closest of the three troopers. My muscles complain with every step, but there’s a drive deep inside of me to survive this. To have a hope of finding her again.

As I get within an arm’s reach of the stormtrooper, I feign a grab for his blaster and drop into a low spinning heel kick that takes his legs out from under him. I grab the top edge of his plastoid back armor before he can hit the ground, pulling him close in front of me as mobile cover. My left elbow locks around the troopers neck. Reaching out with my right, I call the trooper’s dropped blaster to my hand.

“You won’t make it out of here alive,” the trooper struggles to speak against the pressure of my arm around his neck.

“Did you really think  _ your Emperor _ would let you live after bearing witness to what he is?” So very few know what a Sith is, let alone that Palpatine possessed the skills to defend himself against the so-called coup by the Jedi. His red-clad guards are likely entirely loyal, but the grunts in white? They’re expendable. Which means Palpatine let me live. The thought bothers me. I want to know why, but I need to focus on the other two stormtroopers.

The one to my left steps just too far out of cover and goes down with one well-placed shot. The other learns from his comrade’s mistake. There’s movement behind me to the right which serves as enough of a distraction to adjust my position. The trooper fires off a few rounds in the direction of the distraction. I hear a yelp, but don’t dare turn to see who was hit or how badly. By the time the other trooper turns his attention back to me and my shield, I’m far enough to make his previous cover useless.

My shot goes wide. His is on target. The trooper I held by the neck falls to the ground and I push, sending a wave of Force energy that knocks him back into a stack of crates. I raise the blaster and fire.

With the immediate danger over, my legs threaten to give out. I limp my way back to the ship and up the ramp. I see Sareia seated just inside, clutching at the blaster burn on her leg. 

“I’m sorry,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Don’t be. All of this is because of me.” I hold out a hand to help her up. “I’m going to help you down to the hangar, but then I have to go.”

She eyes me worriedly. I don’t know if it’s worry  _ for _ me or for being left behind when I’m clearly planning something.

Back on the ship, I tell the little blue and white astromech to follow me to the flight deck, asking it along the way how much of the encounter in the hangar it was able to record. The answer - everything - surprises me.

“Good. Hold on to that recording. I’ll need it later.”

The door to the flight deck swicks open. With the blaster taken from the stormtrooper set to stun, I make a quick apology to Raymus Antilles and pull the trigger. The droid begins to squeal in protest.

“Wait,” I beg. “R2-D2 is it?”

The droid beeps a wary affirmative.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone. I need your help to fly this thing.”

It’s dome swivels in the direction of the unconscious captain.

“He’s just stunned. I can’t have him trying to stop me. I promise you, he won’t come to any harm. None of the crew onboard will.”

I don’t think the droid entirely believes me, but is willing to give me the benefit of the doubt for now.

“Plug in. I need all the passageways to the bridge, the engines, and any access panels closed and locked. Then let’s get this ship fired up.”

While the droid works through my instructions and finishes the preflight begun by Captain Antilles, I haul the stunned captain into the co-pilot’s seat and strap him in and tie his arms and legs. Seating myself in the pilot’s chair, I strap in and allow my body to fall against the crash webbing. My hands shake with pain that I fear will linger for some time. My chest hurts too much to cry over the loss of my daughter as I wish to. I’m not yet certain I’ll survive the trip to...anywhere. Not with the possibility of damage to my tissues and internal organs from the Sith lightning.

It’s not long before we’re bursting out of Alderaan’s atmosphere and the blackness of space with it’s million little pinpricks of light fills the forward viewport. Looking at the charts for a place to jump ship, I decide on Faos, a small civilian station far enough out of the way, I should be able to lay low for a bit. I inform the astromech of our destination so he can work out the coordinates for the jump.

The comm sounds and I lean over to silence it. “I’m surprised it took them this long,” I say quietly. Turning to the droid, I add, “Block all incoming transmissions until we get closer to Faos Station.”

When the pinpricks of light turn to streaks then to the mottled blue of hyperspace, I unstrap and carefully stand. Captain Antillies is still out cold so I call over the little droid. "I need you to record a couple of messages for me, both for the senator.  _ Only _ for the senator."

It trundles over and waits until I give it a nod. 

"Bail, if you're seeing this message that means your ship and your crew arrived safely back on Alderaan. It was never my intention to hurt anyone. The Emperor paid me a visit, one I'd been halfway expecting since my daughter was born. It's likely you won't find evidence of it in any of the recordings from the hangar.

"This astromech has a full account of the...event...in its memory." I pause to gently pat the droid's dome. "Once you've seen the recording, you must destroy it. I leave it to your better judgment if you choose to tell anyone about what you see. But it may very well widen the target on your back.

"I'm including another recording for wider release. Palpatine knows who I am and it is better if I distance myself ideologically and politically from the subtle work you're trying to do. He can blame the deaths of his stormtroopers on an undercover Jedi and come out on top. I can lessen that impact on you and the other senators."

I look down for a moment, smothering a fresh wave of pain with a deep breath in and out.

"May the Force be with you."

Giving the droid a nod to end that recording, I steady myself, leaning against the high back of the pilot's seat.

"Ready for the other?"

R2-D2 beeps affirmatively.

The second message is one of militaristic rebellion, of forcing change to topple the still new Empire. There are small dissident groups scattered throughout the galaxy. Senator Organa knows this, as do his allies. But they don't agree with them; with their tactics. Not yet. I don't either, but I must appear to do so if I want Bail and the others to have any chance at success. The fragile alliance he's building needs time.

I'm playing into the Empire's propaganda, inviting its vitriol on myself and the memory of the Jedi. I tell myself again that it is to protect the future. 

Finished with the recordings, I go to my quarters to change my clothes and pack my belongings, including my lightsaber. I can get another box for it along the way.

Grabbing the closest medkit, I drag myself to the lavatory not far off from the bridge for the flight deck personnel to utilize. Looking through the medkit, I realize I should just take the whole thing with me when I leave. Near the bottom is a set of clippers. I look up at my reflection in the mirror for several minutes before I start removing all the ties and pins in my hair and letting it fall loose to my waist.

My arms shake as I drag the clippers across my scalp in neat little rows, shearing every last bit of hair from my head. I gather up the lengths of hair and toss it all into the chute that will ferry it away to the incinerator. I feel unrecognizable, though I know I’ll have to do something about my eyes in the future. Especially when my hair grows back in its natural auburn.

The captain is just starting to wake as I return to the pilot’s seat. He tugs once or twice at the restraints around his wrists and ankles before turning his head groggily in my direction. It takes him a moment to register who I am.

“Rhyssa?” He tries to lean towards me for a better look, cocking his head to the side. He tugs at the restraints again, panic settling across his features. “What’s going on, Rhyssa?”

“I’m sorry, Raymus,” I answer, unable to look over at him. “I’ll untie you once we get to...where we’re going. Everyone that was onboard when we left is safe, though they’re locked in whatever spaces they happened to be in at the time. It’s less than twenty crew.”

I pull my knees to my chest, wrap my arms around them, and rest my head. Ignoring the captain shifting and sighing in the seat next to me, I allow the blue-white mottled tunnel to lull me into a pseudo-meditative state.

My mind returns to the question from the hangar: why in all the stars would the Emperor let me live? A number of different possibilities present themselves. Living while knowing that one’s daughter is to become a servant, a pawn, of a Sith could be enough of an emotional torture to break many a person. Did Palpatine know I was lying when I insisted her father was dead? I have to assume he did. Perhaps he thinks I’ll run to Kenobi, giving up his location. Beyond one flash of a thought, I hadn’t even considered it. Now I’m determined to avoid Tatooine at all costs unless it becomes absolutely necessary. It does have viable spaceports, after all. 

The proximity alarm sounds, it’s nearly time to bring the ship out of hyperspace. I glance over to Captain Antilles. He’s awake and alert, waiting to see where I’ve taken us. I pull back on the lever and the ship drops into real space. Some distance out of sight sits Faos Station. I don’t dare bring a ship this size all the way in. Standing up from the pilot’s seat, I grab my pack and a new blaster to replace the once I lifted off the stormtrooper back on Alderaan.

The droid warbles at me.

Kneeling down in front, a hand on the droid’s dome, I whisper, “Give me ten minutes to get a shuttle away, then turn the ship around and go back to Alderaan. Once you’re back in hyperspace, cut Captain Antilles free.” I stand and hesitate before moving to leave the flight deck. “And wipe this location from the ship’s navicomputer.”

Another series of beeps follow me out into the corridor though the droid remains on the flight deck. I waste no time checking and loading up the small shuttle. Setting out towards the station, I keep an eye on the sensors, breathing a sigh of relief when the corvette makes the jump. I know how to contact Bail’s agents should the need arise.

But for now, I’m on my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the old novelization of Return of the Jedi by James Kahn to help with the Force lightning scene.
> 
> All comments and kudos are cherished/worshiped in my shrine to my readers and a total and complete surprise for me...seriously. This chapter just flowed so easily so I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I feel like the next few will be a bit of a struggle so I beg for your patience.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tahm and her crew have been taking on some support jobs for the Rebellion, moving supplies and gathering information where they can. Only things don't go exactly as planned on a cargo pickup on Antar IV -or- Tahm gets an opportunity to show she's pretty badass when she needs to be.  
> *****  
> This chapter skips forward a little, but it's one I've had in the works for a while now and it's nice to have come across a good place for it.

0-1 ABY

It's been a couple of hours at most since Ny'all came running back from what should have been a quick supply run to the market square to tell us that Rabs had been taken into custody. Keeri has been busy slicing her way into the Imperial network to get a location - somewhere still on planet as no shuttles have left atmosphere. We had noticed some increased interest in our presence, leading to Rabs and Ny'all offering to go on the supply run and get the details of our cargo finalized with my contact instead of me going myself.

My nephew has proved a valuable addition to the crew if only because he's a fresh face with a false ID. In this case, he’d split up with Rabs to meet with the contact while Rabs finished tracking down the supplies. Coming out of the dingy shop used as a front by this particular agent, Ny’all was able to see the little ways down the market to where Rabs was attempting to fight off three stormtroopers, only to be stunned by an unseen fourth.

“I tried to follow them, but they ducked into a deserted area and I didn’t want to give myself away,” Ny’all had said through ragged breaths. I pulled up a map of the city and Ny’all walked me through where he’d been to the point he’d stopped following the troopers, hoping that would help Keeri with her search.

“They’ve called in a shuttle from an Imperial garrison on the other side of the planet for prisoner transport, Captain,” Keeri says as she calls up a holo of the planet to replace that of the city. She charts the probable path of the shuttle from its origin to destination. Switching back to the city map, she gives us the two most likely loading sites. This, at least, will allow me to begin formulating a plan.

Keeri helps me rig up a way to control the ship remotely. We won’t have much time to get back and in the air before we’ll have to contend with ground reinforcements and Imperial air support. I close my eyes and focus my mind on the layout of the city before me, allowing it to rotate slowly.

“This landing pad.” Opening my eyes, I point to one of the two provided by Keeri, the one that unfortunately happens to be the farthest from where we’re currently docked. “Has the Empire started prohibiting departures yet?”

Keeri turns back the comm traffic she’d been monitoring. “Sounds like it. But no star destroyer in orbit yet.”

“Then we’ll have to move quickly.” I check the charge on my blaster, already knowing I’ll need more weapons and an extra body. Shem steps up wordlessly and I give him a nod. “We'll need a way to cancel out any surveillance. Keeri, can you see how many cameras we might be dealing with closer to this cluster of buildings? I can disrupt one or two but after that, they'll pick up on it."

"Oh, I can slice the feed, put it in a loop,” she answers excitedly. “If the trooper monitoring is even remotely inattentive, I should be able to get you a route in completely undetected. Out may be more difficult. Depending on how much noise you make, they’ll be alerted to your presence."

“Just worry about getting us in. Shem, find us the best route,” I instruct as I leave the others. Heading towards the cargo hold where most of our extra weapons are hidden, I pause. It’s been years since I’ve done anything more than wrap my fingers around the hilt of my lightsaber, it may be more of a liability in this instance than a benefit. And it will paint a _very_ large target on my back, though I’ve heard the Skywalker boy has drawn quite a bit of attention from both sides. His potential to wield the Force is no longer a secret.

No, there are still only a few who know my true nature. I shall endeavour to keep it that way. I don’t feel as though I’m equipped to train the boy should the Rebellion discover my past. That is a task for...others. My thoughts drift to Master Yoda who, though I’ve neither heard from nor about, since the start of his self-imposed exile, I am sure is stubborn enough to still be alive.

I’ve survived well enough without using my lightsaber and shall continue to do so until it is truly no longer feasible. Dropping down into the hold, I uncover the weapons stash. Before long, Shem joins me, telling me the plan he’s come up with so far and helping to decide what will be of most use. I replace the blaster in my thigh holster with a larger, more powerful model, sticking the smaller one in the top of my boot. Shem hands me two sheathed vibroblades. One I attach to the left side of my belt and the other slides into the top of my other boot.

“Detonators, Captain,” Shem asks, holding up the lined storage box.

“How many are you bringing?”

“Five or six ought to be more than enough.”

“I’ll take two. And pass me a couple of electromagnetic pulse grenades. Flash grenades?”

Shem smiles and points to a pouch slung across his shoulder.

Once we’ve got our load out set, we take one last look at the holomap of the city, committing our planned route in and out to memory, though with the added assurance of downloading it to my wrist comm as backup. Plans can change, after all.

Shem and I make our way from the spaceport and through a few neighborhoods to the city’s main market as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. From there it is easier to blend in with the crowds as we move to the three-storey building Shem chose as the best starting point for traversing the rooftops. It will put us about two blocks from where Keeri thinks Rabs is being held awaiting transport. At street level, we enter the repair shop which, hopefully, has an escape ladder at the back for the housing on the upper levels.

The owner approaches us, wary of the fact that we are clearly heavily armed. She speaks quickly in Huttese and I tell her we’re only looking for a way to the rooftop. She hesitates so I push the hint of suggestion into my voice while I repeat my statement. This time, we’re pointed in the direction of the door in the back of the shop that leads to the alleyway. If Shem had eyebrows, one would be raised high on his forehead as he looks between my face and the hand he saw wave ever so slightly in the direction of the shop owner while I’d re-stated my request. The best I can offer him is a smirk and a shoulder shrug.

From the alley, we head up. I comm Keeri to let her know we’re about the begin the first phase of the op. She’ll be ready and waiting for us to get to the nondescript building we think the Imperials are using as their local headquarters.

The majority of the buildings are close enough together that pure athleticism is enough to get across to the next one. Only once do I have to convince Shem that all he has to do is jump and I’ll give him an extra push, augmenting my own running jump once Shem is safely across.

Using an access doorway as cover on the final rooftop before the Imperial building, we take in as much as we can of the next building over. I find I’m a little disappointed in whoever is in charge here as our current building, along with the one located across the back alley are both taller than our target. They do however have plenty of room to land an officer’s shuttle or a troop transport on the roof. There are also two troopers on guard, though they’re marking out a rather lazy perimeter.

“Blaster turrets,” Shem says, pointing first to the side of the roof overlooking the main street, then to the corner that sits between the two taller buildings, and finally to the wall on the far side of the building, closer to the back alley.

“Is it worth disabling all of them before we go in?”

He considers my question for a moment, returning his gaze to each of the turrets in turn. “I think that if we set up remote detonators on the two closest to the back alleyway, we should be covered,” he says definitively.

“Let’s do it.” Activating my wrist comm, I let Keeri know we’re ready to move in.

“Acknowledged, Captain,” Keeri’s voice replies. “Looping the camera feeds...now.”

With that, I arm one of the EMP grenades and toss it onto the next roof, drawing on the Force so it lands quietly and rolls in the direction of the two stormtroopers. As it detonates, frying the electrical systems in the troopers armor, particularly the comms in their helmets, Shem and I dart from our last bit of cover and across the gap created by the street below onto the rooftop of the makeshift Imperial HQ. A few quick strikes and the troopers are out of the fight.

I listen for a moment at the rooftop access door before cracking it open and peering into a moderately lit stairwell. Quietly, Shem follows me down the stairs to the floor below. We knew we would be coming in blind which meant we’d either have to find a computer terminal and install the data spike Keeri gave me that would give her remote access to the local system, or we’d have to search floor by floor. Shem offers me a questioning glance.

I peek through the small window in the door to the hallway but nothing stands out to me as important. “We keep going down, towards the sub-levels.”

Shem nods once and we get moving. Nearing the ground floor, I pull the blaster from my thigh holster, readying it for the firefight I know we’ll eventually encounter. Aiming at the door on the landing a few steps below me, I signal Shem forward. He ducks under my line of fire and out of view of anyone in the hallway to take his position on the opposite side of the landing. A quick visual sweep of the stairs leading below and he’s settled his blaster to guard against anyone coming up. This place must be severely understaffed considering the lack of resistance we’ve come across so far. I reach out with the Force as I inch ever closer to the door, trying not only to get a feel for how many personnel are about on this level but also if I can sense Rabson.

We’re getting closer, but I know he’s not on this level. Which means we go lower. At the next level, I begin to get a stronger sense of him, though it’s muddled. I worry that he’s either unconscious or nearly so. It will take longer for Shem and I to get him out to Ny’all and the waiting speeder several blocks away if we have to carry him.

“Next level down, I think,” I whisper to Shem. “When we get in there, check the room for stims,” I add, kicking myself for not thinking to pack any.

Repeating our earlier set up, Shem takes up a defensive position while I check the door. I close my eyes and reach out. Five to the right that I can pick out distinctly and more beyond that, perhaps down another hallway, including Rabs. Only two to the left, moving away. Likely troopers on rounds.

I signal Shem then reach for one of my detonators. “Ready to make some noise?” I set the timer on the detonator, taking in a few deep calming breaths as the seconds tick by. Pulling the door open enough to throw the detonator to the left, Shem tosses a flash grenade to the right. I slam the door shut, both Shem and I covering our eyes and throwing our weight against it as the explosion rings out down the hallway.

Alarms blare through the building and we step into the hallway, turning to the right, away from the destruction of the explosives. We were spared the effects of the flash grenade, allowing us to move quickly through the hallway, taking down those that could not yet see us to stop us. At a corner, I put out an arm to hold Shem back, poking my head around to assess. No one at this offshoot. Motioning for Shem to keep moving, we make it to the next junction. Halfway down this connecting hallway, I see a door with extra security. It’s either the central computer or a good place to beat up a prisoner. A shallow dip into the Force tells me it is the latter.

“Up here,” I say over my shoulder to Shem. I ease around the corner, Shem covering our backs as we move down the hall. I hear him take a couple of shots, but not before a blaster bolt embeds itself into the wall a few steps ahead of me. The next sound is a body hitting the floor back the way we came. Keeping my eyes on the space in front of me, I feel the movement of an officer taking a shot from the end of the hall. One shot and he’s no longer a threat.

“Cover me while I get this door open.” A task that is easier said than done as we’re both exposed standing in the middle of a hallway that is open on both ends. I drop to one knee in front of the locking mechanism and get to work. Stopping twice to help Shem defend our position delayed our entry into the secure room, but eventually the lock clicks and I can push the door open. Shem throws another detonator back the direction we came as he quickly follows me inside and closes the door behind him.

The wave of emotion that passes over me when my eyes light on the bruised and slightly bloodied figure of Rabs, crudely strapped into a chair not really meant for interrogation, is unexpected. There’s no time to unpack those thoughts and feelings right now, however. We must get him up and get him out of here.

The shock of the interrogating officer and the stormtrooper guard at being interrupted is wearing off. The white-clad trooper already has his weapon trained on Shem, whose attention is on the officer. With my left hand, I push out towards the trooper and he flies back into the shelves of data files behind him, blaster dropping from his hand as he hits the ground. Shem dispatches the officer.

I race to Rabs and begin untying his bonds while Shem blocks the door.

Rabs groggily lifts his head and gives me a painful smile that shows clearly the blood on his teeth from the split lip.

“Perhaps save that until we can get out of here and get you cleaned up,” I tell him with a smile of my own. “Can you stand?”

The first time he tries to stand, his legs give out and he drops back into the chair. The second time, he wavers, but is standing on his own two feet with minimal assistance. He leans on me when he takes a step forward, then another.

 _Good, nothing broken._ “Did they give you anything,” I ask.

He gestures weakly in the direction of a table that had been pushed off to the side. I leave him to stand on his own. There’s one empty stim canister and three unused. “You’re going to hate me when these wear off,” I say as I stick one in the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“We should be getting going, if we are going to make the rendezvous,” Shem says calmly.

I try my wrist comm as I lean over the fallen stormtrooper to grab his dropped blaster. “Damnit. Comms are blocked.” I hand the blaster to Rabs who seems a little steadier on his feet. “We need to go up two levels then find a way out into the back alleyway,” I tell Rabs who nods, blinking his eyes furiously against the dryness caused by the extra dosage from the stim canister.

More and more I’m convinced the Empire must have just been setting up this building as a base of operations in the city. The resistance we meet shooting our way out of the building is barely more than it was coming in, though it takes more time to find the door out the back. It’s minimally defended and relatively easy for Shem and I to get past it with Rabs. Once outside, I pull the remote from my belt. We wait until we hear the voices of the troopers on the rooftop getting set up on their turrets. One touch and explosions echo on either side of us as we duck, covering our heads in case of debris.

Shem and I slow our pace to one Rabs can manage as we make our way through back and side alleys, eventually working our way back to the crowded market streets which don’t appear to have suffered any for the explosions in the distance. It takes a bit of effort to avoid the stormtroopers that have moved into the crowd, searching for the culprits who would be so foolish as to attack their local headquarters.

In an alley on the opposite side of the market from where we started, Ny’all sits in the front of a land speeder doing his best to look disinterested in anything going on around him. We come out a block ahead of where we’d originally intended but it takes only a few seconds for my nephew to bring the speeder up to us.

Zipping through little used alleyways and heavily used city streets, I tap the commands into my wrist comm that will have the ship ready to depart as soon as we’re back on board. Ny’all drives the speeder into the cargo hold and I jump out before it even has a chance to stop moving, already running to get to the cockpit. Shem is out a second after me, retracting the ramp and sealing the hold.

Keeri is already waiting for me. “They’ve put out a call for a star destroyer, but there’s some minor delay in getting one here. They didn’t seem like they were in that much of a hurry. A squadron of TIEs from the base on the other side of the planet have already mobilized. At least half sent to upper atmosphere to control the lanes in and out while the others are on their way here.

“Shem, I need you on guns,” I say, putting on the headset Keeri hands me, my voice amplified through the ship. “You too, Rabs. If you’re up for it.”

By the time the ship is in the air, both Shem and Rabs are settled in at the quad laser and the RM-76 heavy laser respectively. We take a few minor hits during our escape, but it still seems to me the Imperials were woefully unprepared for any of the sequence of events from the day. Either a good portion of their resources are being directed elsewhere or they top-loaded personnel on the Death Star and it’s destruction is still causing serious repercussions. Perhaps a combination of the two. 

I’d altered our initial jump out of the system. We make two more jumps before redirecting to our original destination where we’ll be trading supplies for information. When the ship reverts back to real space and the monochromatic, tan marble of a desert planet fills the viewport, I feel a pang of sadness. I’d managed to avoid coming here for nearly twenty years. There was no reason to avoid Tatooine now, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gone and Luke Skywalker is the young hero of the Rebellion who destroyed the Death Star.

Setting down in Mos Espa as arranged with the contact from the budding Rebel group here, I’m looking forward to the possibility of a few days without being shot at. We won’t be on Tatooine that long, but leaving here should be a much simpler affair than blasting our way out of Antar IV. Keeri and Ny’all have agreed to stay with the ship while Shem, Rabs, and I meet with the contact in the dirtiest, most disreputable cantina I’ve seen in a very long time.

The group he’s working with has been looking into possible future bases of operations for the Rebel Alliance. There is one in particular they’ve done some preliminary scouting on, but would like a second opinion before offering it as a viable option to the leadership. We’re given coordinates and a basic description - Outer Rim. Anoat Sector. Hoth System. Ice planet.

Fantastic. Memories of the bone deep chill during my trip to Ilum as a youngling at the Temple surface and I can’t help but shiver even in the oppressive heat of the desert planet.

*****

"Tahm," Rabs says in a whisper, laying a hand on my arm. "I need to talk to you."

"All right." I lean in to hear him better, close enough to smell the smoke from the cantina that lingers in the fabric of his shirt. We set the ship down on one of the planet’s three moon’s earlier in the day, our mandate is to simply monitor traffic in and out of the system, if there is any, and report back to the group on Tatooine. Spending a bit of time on or around each moon should give us not only a good idea of traffic patterns, but will allow myself and my crew some much needed rest.

Rabs looks around at the others sharing the common room with us at the moment. Shem and Ny'all are in the middle of a game of dejarik, my nephew occasionally throwing up his arms in frustration. He’s gotten better over the last half a year, but he still has a lot to learn to compete with Shem.

Turning back to me, Rabs says, "I think we should go somewhere more private." He tilts his head, gesturing towards the passage leading to the crew quarters.

I study his expression for a moment, reaching out to sense his apprehension, before nodding.

We don't go into our quarters but stand just outside. _I_ stand just outside, Rabs paces in the limited space in front of me.

He stops and faces me, a pained expression on his face. "I wanted to thank you for what you did."

I place my hands on his forearms. "You don't have to…," I begin.

"No," he says with more force behind his voice than seems necessary. He removes my hands. "I do. Because I didn't deserve it."

He drops his head, no longer meeting my gaze. "You don't know what happened; why they were after me."

The silence stretches out between us as Rabs backs away from me, breathing deeply to calm himself.

"So tell me." I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the bulkhead behind me, waiting.

"You're not the only one with secrets, Tahm. And please remember that I chose to stay because...because of how I…." He sighs and rakes his fingers through his dark hair. "I didn't start out as a ship mechanic. I mean, well, I've always tinkered. Always had an aptitude for it; a project or two stored in the garage. But I learned because I was assigned to infiltrate your crew."

My hand drops to the blaster holstered on my right thigh as I take a step back towards the common area. I don't pull it, but I'm ready.

"I was Imperial Intelligence. _Was_ ," he exclaims as, in a fraction of a second, I draw my weapon and aim center of mass.

I want to wait, to let him explain, but I've run too far and too long to take those kinds of chances. He could try to grab the blaster from my hand, but he doesn't. Rabs tries to reason with me. My head is spinning. How could I have been so blind?

There's a loud thud as his body hits the deck. Shem is the first one to reach the corridor, followed quickly by Keeri.

"What has ha--," Shem goes quiet as he sees Rabson's large form, slumped over on the deck a short distance from me.

"He's still alive. It was set to stun," I reassure them as I holster my blaster and kneel down to check Rabs's pulse. "Help me get him up."

Shem rushes over. Together, we half-carry, half-drag an unconscious Rabs to the common room. Because of his size, we're not exactly gentle as we get him seated in the booth next to the dejarik table.

"What happened," Keeri asks hysterically as she follows on my heels to my quarters--the quarters I share with Rabs.

I tell her of Rabs's revelation, digging in a trunk for a set of binders. To say she is shocked would be a gross understatement. Binders in hand, I head back to the common area.

"We'll have more answers when he wakes up," I answer the questioning look from Shem. I affix the binders around Rabs's wrists, fighting the sorrow that threatens to break over all the other emotions roiling inside me. It was only a few days ago...

The waiting is tortuous. Sitting cross-legged on the deck on the side of the room farthest from unconscious Rabs, I try to ignore Keeri pacing back and forth across the room. Another deep breath in and out. In and out.

A soft grunt pulls me from my pseudo-meditative state. Slowly, Rabs comes to, chin lifting carefully off his chest. He rolls his neck a little before finally opening his eyes.

I stand, watching as he tries to bring his arms forward, to rest them on the table in front of him, only to discover his wrists bound behind his back. He sighs and leans forward, dropping his forehead to the table, wincing a little at the still-healing bruises on his face.

"You didn't have to shoot me," Rabs says, sitting back up and trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position. "I would've let you put the binders on, if it made you feel better."

I respond by resting my left hand on the buckle of my belt while the right, again, goes to my blaster.

"So I guess just start from the beginning?" He looks to the others. Ny'all eyes him warily while Keeri looks quickly away. Shem stares back.

Rabs sighs once more and looks to me. "You were a partial match. Facial recognition. But you weren't the only one. There were two others that were partials. At least that I was aware of. Agents were assigned to them as I was assigned to you. All we were to do was monitor and report."

"Who was the Empire looking for," I ask, throwing steel in my voice that I certainly do not feel.

"You," he states plainly. "But I didn't actually know that until after Alderaan. I didn’t even know the real reason. I was only told you might be working for one of the Rebel cells. That's _all_ I was told. I was assigned to you and your crew to suss out any dealings with the Rebels. To see if you were a threat.

"But if you were working for them, you kept it well hidden from everyone. The last report I made, I insisted you weren't the person the Empire was looking for, you were just a freighter pilot. It wasn't until you told us of your past that I realized there was a deeper reason behind the Empire's search for you.

"It's been well over two standard years since I made a report. My superiors have been reaching out, leaving messages, but I haven't responded. I haven't wanted to. I can only assume that's why they came for me. They think because I haven't reported in that I must've defected."

I eye him skeptically for a long moment. "Whose side _are_ you on, then? Still with the Empire?"

"No. I have switched sides, but not to the Rebellion. To yours," he says, raising his eyes to mine.

There's truth in his statement, I can feel his sincerity. He could have turned me in back when I told the crew about my true identity but he didn't. Even so, Rabs lied to me.

Suspicion hangs heavy in the air around us as I consider my options. I look to Shem and nod. He draws his blaster and, with it set to stun, points the barrel towards Rabs.

"Uncuff him," I tell Ny’all, tossing him the key.

Keeri begins to protest as my nephew helps Rabs to standing but silences when I hold up my hand. I move forward, stopping no more than an arm's reach from our Imperial Intelligence agent - _former_ Imperial Intelligence agent, if he is to be believed.

When the binders are off, Rabs rubs his wrists for a moment before closing the distance between him and me with one step. My body reacts defensively and I am surprised when he puts one hand on my arm and the other on the side of my face. He leans in quickly, before I can protest, and covers my mouth with his.

His lips are soft and warm. It's all too easy to lose myself in his embrace. I do, for a moment, before gripping his arms and pushing him away, aided ever so slightly by the Force. I can feel the pain and anger inside me, working their way to the surface.

"I can't kick you off my ship," I begin with a snarl.

"What? Why not," Keeri interjects, cutting off my train of thought.

"Because if the Empire gets a hold of him again, they'll have ways to make him talk," Ny'all answers. "He'll tell them about all of us, whether he wants to or not."

"It's safer for all of us if he stays onboard," I concur. "As much as I'd rather you were gone," I add, attention back on Rabs.

From the corner of the room, Shem steps forward. "I could bunk with him for now, Captain. Keep an eye on him inside of the ship."

The thoughtfulness of Shem's statement does more to dissipate the dark emotions than anything I'd attempted in the last couple of minutes. They all witnessed the kiss Rabs and I shared. To have one of my crew openly acknowledge that I might find some discomfort continuing to share quarters with Rabs warms my heart. It is unnecessary, however. I'd prefer to watch over him myself, not that I doubt my crew's ability to handle any situation that might arise.

I simply feel responsible.

"He'll stay where he is for now. When I'm off ship, however, one of you will have to step in for me." I turn to face Rabson fully. "You go nowhere and you do nothing on _my_ ship without an escort or you'll find yourself staring down my blaster again, only it won't be set to stun. Do you understand?"

He nods, eyes closing momentarily. My body tenses, ready in case he decides to attack. He doesn't.

*****

Keeri reprogrammed the locking mechanism on the door to my quarters so it can only be locked and unlocked from the outside. We're still parked on a moon orbiting the ice planet in the outer rim and everyone else is asleep. I'm taking advantage of the opportunity by sitting alone in the galley, a glass of brandy scavenged from a shipment somewhere along the way in hand. I let the warmth of the liquor spread through my body, relaxing tense muscles as it goes. There are, of course, more productive ways I could calm my nerves after the events of the past few days, but I've decided to indulge the part of me that wants to wallow, if only for a bit.

My mind searches, replaying events, conversations, anything I could possibly have missed that I should not have. Rabson joined the crew about a year and a half after I bought the ship. Most of the work up to that point were minor repairs I could accomplish on my own. But an incident with a rather determined band of pirates left me needing to seek outside services for the repairs.

We’d limped into the nearest civilian space station, docked a couple of hangars over from a large freighter and caught the eye of one of their team of mechanics. I’d sensed nothing from him but sincerity and genuine curiosity as to how the damage to the ship occured. He’d offered to help us find parts and take care of the repairs as long as his ship was docked. I couldn’t pay him near what he made on the larger ship, but that didn’t seem to matter. Later, he would tell me that he’d just wanted to work on something different for a few days and didn’t mind doing so for free. I hadn’t expected him to leave the station with us, but it brought me a certain peace of mind to have a dedicated mechanic on the crew.

At first, when we’d dock planetside, he’d often head out into whatever passed for a city on his own. If myself and the others of the crew ran into him at a cantina, he’d converse openly, but excuse himself for the rest of the night when a comm would come through. He’d blush and tell us it was his fiancée back home. Neither I nor the others ever questioned it. The explanation was entirely plausible and none of us had reason to think otherwise. Only…

Thinking back, he never really spoke much about her unless he was asked. It’s only knowing what I know now that makes that appear suspicious. Perhaps it is worth asking along with other questions when I properly interrogate him.

My brows draw in and my eyes close. I’m not looking forward to the prospect of a formal interrogation. Not that I would _ever_ conduct one in the same manner as the Empire. It is not how I was brought up in the galaxy. It is not the Jedi way. That is not to say they could not be persuasive when necessary. I will have to draw strength from the Force to not allow my feelings for the man get in the way of the truth.

Downing what little alcohol is left in my glass, I stand and head towards the cargo hold. Instead of sitting on the cold durasteel floor plating to meditate, I remove my long-sleeved outer shirt, bend my knees, and center myself into a basic defensive stance. The movements are similar to those while holding a lightsaber, requiring little alteration on my part. I move through a series akin to Form I slowly, steadily, focusing on each inhale-exhale and how each muscle moves as I shift from one stance to another. After a few times through, I no longer feel the effects of the alcohol that had been coursing through my blood and I sink deeper into the Force.

Time has gotten away from me. I hear the stirrings of one or two of the crew before I feel a bead of sweat drip down my back. Not the first, if the overall dampness of my sleeveless shirt is any indication. I finish up the last of the movements and stretch my neck. My outer shirt sticks to my sweat-damp skin as I pull it back on and climb the ladder back to the common area and the galley.

Shem turns his head in my direction as he pours himself a cup of caf. “Did you get _any_ sleep last night, Captain?”

“Meditation can be quite restorative on it’s own.”

“I did not think meditation was so physically involved,” he says critically as he passes me a hot cup of tea.

Apparently, I was so deep in meditation, I didn’t notice he’d seen me. “More than one way to skin a tooka, Shem.” I breathe in the floral aroma of the tea before taking a tentative sip. Not too hot. “I need to find out the extent of what Rabs reported to his superiors.”

“You mean, before he says he had stopped reporting to them?”

I nod, taking another sip from the teacup in my hands. “Assuming he wasn’t lying about that.”

“I think that I know you well enough to know you believed him when he said he had not reported in two years at least.”

I take another drink to hide my smile. "Shall I escort him out here for you to keep watch while I go clean up?"

"Of course," Shem readily agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, thank you for reading. I had a blast writing this chapter and I hope you enjoyed reading it! Comments and kudos, while unexpected, are always appreciated. You can find me over on tumblr:greeneyediceprincess.


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